What Happened Next
by cgm631
Summary: My pursuit of answering the question: what happened after the the seventh book? This story is my own humble attempt at imitating the un-imitable style of J.K. Rowling. I hope to tell the story of the next year of Harry's life while staying as true to the original ideas and spirit of the books as possible. Please review!
1. The New Normal

Harry Potter opened his eyes and squinted.

The sun was shining through the small attic window of Ron's bedroom directly onto his face. He groaned and pulled the coverlet higher, but as soon as his eyes had opened, a torrent of seemingly unending memories has begun cascading through his mind.

The battle at Hogwarts. Walking alone into the woods. A flash of green light. Circling Voldemort, knowing that only one of them would come out alive. Yes, he reflected, it was all well and good to be able close a novel once one is done perusing the heroes adventures, but when one _is_ the hero, well, let's just say the story doesn't end after the novel's shut.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force the memories away and to go back to sleep, but after a few minutes of staring at the black insides of his eyelids and at the dizzying green splotches of light created on them by the light streaming through the window, he admitted defeat, and opened his eyes again.

Sighing, he glanced around the room. It was hard to believe it had only been two weeks. Two weeks of funerals. Two weeks of Mrs. Weasley bursting into tears every few minutes. Two weeks of stiff upper lips instantly transforming into trembling lower lips the second their owners were behind a closed door.

Life in the Weasley household was simply not the lighthearted affair it had once been. Not that Harry could blame them in the slightest, he too was grieving. There had been so much tragedy and so little time to process it. He was just a bit more used to having to deal with death and hiding one's emotions than the average person. And as far as he could tell, there really was no good way to deal with it. Oh of course everyone always said you had to "talk about it", but all talking about had managed to do so far, was to up the rate of Mrs. Weasley's eyes filling with tears from every few minutes, to every few seconds.

The best way to deal with pain, in Harry's opinion, was by the deceptively simple means of "keeping busy". Speaking of which, he reached for the half finished comic strewn across Ron's floor, which he had begun reading the night before. When he lay in bed at night, eyes open, seeing again the horrors of the last battle, "The Adventures of Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle", often provided the perfect distraction. Yes, he mused, whether Martin was trying to walk his pet gerbil on a leash, or putting his trousers on backwards, his odd anecdotes often provided the perfect distraction from reality.

He was just getting to the part where Martin was trying to make his toaster fly by harnessing the great powers of "elextrisitee", when a sudden creak of the heavy oak door to Ron's room caught his attention. Glancing up, he found himself staring into a pair of large brown eyes which were, of course, he sighed inwardly, rapidly filling with tears. "Hermione", he whispered, "what are you doing up so early?". The door creaked fully open, and Hermione Granger, one of his best friends, tiptoed in on her fuzzy blue slippers, and plopped herself down onto the bottom of his bed.

"Well, lately I've barely been sleeping anyway, but of course last night I hardly slept a wink! I can't believe I'll be seeing them today! What if they're so angry with me? I just miss them so much!". She began in a whisper, but ended at a slightly hysterical pitch, and two fat tears slowly rolled down her cheeks.

Of course, Harry inwardly cursed himself for forgetting, Hermione would be seeing her parents today for the first time since she had placed them under the imperius curse a year ago. Harry watched as her fingers nervously played with the frayed edge of her dressing gown, unsure of how to reply. The spell she had placed, had convinced her parents that they were Wendell and Monica Wilkins, a childless couples whose dearest ambition in life was to move to Australia, which they had promptly done.

Hermione had of course, done this to protect them, but Harry could see that her parents might not be too happy to have spent a year of their life not knowing who they really were, under a spell which their own daughter had placed on them. Hermione had wanted to go to her parents directly and lift the curse herself, but considering the delicacy of the situation, two curse breakers from the ministry would instead go this morning to collect her parents, and remove the spell from them.

He cleared his throat nervously, discussing feelings was not one of his favorite pastimes, "listen, Hermione, you're their daughter- they'll always love you no matter what. And I'm sure that they'll be able to understand that you did it to protect them.", he tried to verbalize what he _knew_ was the truth, but he wasn't sure he was doing a very good job of it.

"Oh but thats just it!" she replied sadly, "I'm their _child_ , they'll feel as though _they'v_ e failed in protecting _me_! Especially if they ever find out what we've been up to this past year." She sighed.

"What's going on?" a sleepy voice came from the bed on Harry's left. "Do you bloody well know what time it is?"

"Oh Ron, thank goodness you're awake!" Squeaked Hermione, as she promptly flung her arms around him.

She jumped off the end of Harry's bed so quickly that one her fuzzy slippers went flying and smacked Harry in the face. As he rubbed his cheek, Harry thought about the fact that although he was at once relived that Ron and Hermione had finally admitted their feelings for each other after a solid four years of dancing around them, they would never again be the same three friends they once were.

Of course there were many other reasons that they would never again be the same; they had survived the war, they had lost family and friends, Harry had killed Lord Voldemort.

He sighed again, and glanced up at his now awake, other best friend, Ron Weasley. Ron's eyes were half closed, and his bright red hair stuck up at odd angles, but aside from that, he was looking rather pleased to have his girlfriend's arms wrapped around him at such an early hour. Annoyed at the morbid turn his thought's had yet again taken, Harry reached once more for the comic book, only for another creak of the door to cause him to glance up.

"Oh hello", Percy Weasley stepped lightly through the doorway and stared down at Harry, Ron and Hermione, "thought I heard voices. Listen, I was just about to start fixing breakfast, and since you're all awake, I thought I might as well see what you want. How does bacon and toast sound?" This whole sentence came out in rather a rush, as though Percy had more words to say than he was able to properly cram into a sentence.

Yes, the one exception to the Weasley family growing much more quiet was Percy, who seemed to think it was his duty, after the three years in which he had refused to speak to his family, to be as talkative and helpful as possible now, in order to somehow make it up to them.

"Blimey Perce, do you have any idea what time it is?" grumbled Ron from his bed, who seemed annoyed that Percy had cut off Hermione's hug.

"Why yes", came the prompt reply, "it's exactly a quarter to seven". In response, Ron merely groaned and pulled his pillow over his head, but Hermione, who had been furiously scrubbing her eyes on the sleeve of her dressing gown, squeaked, jumped off the edge of Ron's bed, and said: "Oh my goodness! They'll be back in only three hours and fifteen minutes! I've got to go start getting ready! Why on earth didn't any of you tell me it was getting so late?", then dashed out of the room, nearly bowling over Percy, who was still standing in the doorway. "Oh yes, her parents are coming home today." Remarked Percy while he straightened his glasses, which had been knocked askew in the collision. "Well, if you're both fine with bacon and toast, I'd better go pop back downstairs and start making it, nearly everyone's awake by now." Percy stepped back out of the room, neatly closing the door behind him.

It seemed that everyone else in the Weasly household was having trouble sleeping as well, because Harry remembered that in the past, prising the boys and Ginny out of bed before noon was a task of nearly Herculean proportions.

As the smell of bacon wafted upstairs, Harry finally shrugged off his blanket, and started pulling on a jumper and a pair of trousers. As he was pulling up his socks, Ron suddenly spoke, "after everything that's happened, how do you just keep doing it, day after day. I mean- most mornings I'll be laying here in bed, and just the thought of having to get up- and see a world without...well...Fred, nearly does me in. So... that's why I don't like waking up early, 'cuz when I'm here, safe in bed, I can just pretend it never happened, and that...and that he's still here..." At this point, Ron's voice broke, and Harry awkwardly looked away. In the new, "after the war" reality, he reflected sadly, it was nearly impossible to get down to breakfast without having at least two people burst into tears and expect you to somehow know how to fix the unfix-able.

"Listen, mate... it's hard", he began slowly, trying to formulate a good response, "But the only way is to keep putting one foot in front of the other, to keep going through the motions of living. Because otherwise, if you just lie here in bed, I guarantee you that it will eventually destroy you."

Glancing at Ron's red rimmed eyes, he decided it was time to share something personal,

"the summer after Sirius died was one of the worst summer's of my life. Sirius was like a father, a brother, a connection to my parents. He was my shining hope that one day, I would get away from the Dursleys, and finally...well, finally have a real family, I suppose. And then he was dead. And it was my fault. When I got back do the Dursleys, I didn't get out of bed for three days. I couldn't eat, sleep, nothing. Eventually, on the third day, I could hardly move, I knew the Dursleys weren't about to come rescue me, I think they were relieved I was being so quiet and unobtrusive and had no intention of spoiling it. I knew I was on my own. I felt like... I might as well just give up...give up and die, but I thought about you and Hermione," he cleared his throat awkwardly, "and I knew that there was still something to live for, so I got up, and put on my shoes. I know it sounds stupid, but after I did that, I just kept putting one foot in front of the other. I kept living. And in some ways, as hard as it may feel, living is much, much easier than letting go."

Slightly embarrassed with what he had just revealed, Harry quickly shoved his feet into his shoes, grabbed his wand, and stepped out of the room, gently closing the door behind him.


	2. A Tree in the Woods

Breakfast had been another somber affair with the Weasleys, and Harry desperately needed some fresh air. After he and Ron had bid Hermione goodbye and wished her luck on her reunion with her parents (Ron and Hermione's passionate goodbye had left Harry feeling somewhat uncomfortable), Harry muttered to Ron that he was going for a walk.

Pulling on his invisibility cloak, he stepped outside, and immediately disapparated. He reappeared a moment later in a forest thick with trees, the sunlight dappling the ground wherever it managed to peep through the canopy of leaves. Unsure of why he exactly he had chosen to come here, he began aimlessly walking through the trees.

Finally, after nearly a quarter of an hour, he stopped and sat down cross-legged on the ground. Fingering the smooth dirt beneath his fingers, he began taking deep breathes, trying to calm his constantly racing mind.

Why couldn't he just forget? It had only been two weeks, but he was tired of remembering. Even here, amongst the cool green leaves and dirt, with only sunshine and trees for company, the memories of the battle were still relentlessly dogging him.

He felt trapped inside his mind. Where could he go? Where _should_ he go for that matter? Back at the Weasleys, everything felt even worse. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had been nothing but kind to him, trying to talk to him about everything that had happened, but still, they were all mourning Fred.

Fred probably would have been the one to lighten all the tension, he thought grimly, he probably would have somehow found a way to make a joke out of his own death.

"Hey mum, want me to wash the supper dishes? Oh sorry, I can't, I'm dead! Hahaha." or "mum, it was actually George that died. Honestly woman, will you _ever_ be able to tell us apart?"

It was a relief to actually be able to think the stupid thoughts dancing around in the back of his mind without having to suddenly stop his train of thought, worried that someone around him might somehow have learned legilimency and started reading his mind.

And George, well, he had hardly been seen the past two weeks. After Fred's funeral, he had gone up to his room, and had barely come out since then. Whenever Harry did see him, it was almost painful. George, once just as vibrant and funny as his twin, was a shadow of his former self.

As stupid as he knew it was, Harry still couldn't help blaming himself partially for all the deaths that had occurred in the battle. What if they could have found the horocurxes a bit sooner? Or what if he had just marched over to meet Voldemort and let him kill him before the battle had even started? Maybe everything would have turned out differently, and they would all be laughing about it together right now.

Why was everything so depressing? They had won, he had killed Voldemort, shouldn't he be feeling happier? If they had been victorious, why did it feel like such a loss? And why especially, couldn't he turn off the annoying stream of dark thoughts and unanswered questions that kept flooding his mind.

He needed a distraction. Thinking regretfully back to the still half finished comic laying crumpled on Ron's floor, he got slowly to his feet and brushed himself off. Taking one last glance around at the calm and quiet of the forest, he spun on his heel, and disapparated.

A moment later, the burrow again loomed in front of him. He pulled off his cloak, and marched resolutely around to the back of the house. As expected, Ron was sitting in the old drooping tire swing, staring off into the trees, and absently twirling his wand as he slowly dragged his trainers through the muddy ground.

Starting at the sound of Harry's approach, he glanced up. "Hey Harry, how was your walk?" Ron greeted him, "Able to clear your head a bit?" while he said this, he managed to force the ends of his mouth upwards into something that resembled a smile, but didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Yeah, not bad I guess. But listen mate", Harry hesitated for a moment, "I was wondering if you fancy going on a bit of a day trip with me. Ginny and George too if they want. I feel like I could use a bit of a distraction from..well...everything."

Ron was silent for a moment, pondering what Harry had said.

"yeah, I reckon your right. I'll probably go off my rocker if I keep sitting in this pathetic excuse for a swing. Either that or the rope holding it up will finally snap like its been threatening to do for years, and I'll break my neck when the whole bloody thing comes crashing down." He smiled grimly at Harry. "So where do you think we should go?"

"I didn't really think that far into the plan yet", replied Harry, and shrugged, "frankly, I was just impressed with myself for coming up with the first brilliant part."

"You're a bloody genius, do you know that?" Ron retorted, "I'd love to see you and Hermione go head to head sometime, so we can finally see which one of you is smarter. Let's see, the brightest witch of our age, versus coming up with the idea of going on a day trip. Hmmm, I don't know, this is really a tough call..." Ron trailed off beginning to laugh, and Harry joined in. "and the best part is," he wheezed to Ron in between peals of laughter, "is that I wasn't joking about being impressed with myself. It really did take me a solid half hour to come up with that idea!"

He and Ron, it appeared, were unable to stop their laughter once they had started. It seemed to come from somewhere deep inside him, the part of him that had been dying to laugh and smile for the past two weeks, and now didn't _want_ to stop. He sank to the ground, clutching his ribs, which ached from the laughter still welling up inside of him.

"Stop!...Stop!" Ron gasped, also clutching his stomach which was heaving from laughing so much, nearly falling out of the swing as he tried to catch his breath.

"What's so funny?" a voice from behind him startled Harry, and he quickly turned. A resounding thunk in back of him told him that Ron too hadn't noticed anyone approaching, and had finally fallen out of the swing in surprise.

"Oh...hey Ginny!", Harry valiantly tried to stop laughing, but a rather unbecoming snort of laughter in the middle of his sentence had somewhat ruined the effect. A fresh burst of laughter from behind him informed him that Ron too had been unimpressed with his attempt at being suave. "We were just discussing who's smarter, Harry or Hermione", Ron helpfully piped up from behind. "hmm, well sorry Harry", Ginny smiled apologetically at him, "but I don't really think it's much of a contest. I still don't see what's so funny though".

Harry smiled up at her, and grabbed her hand, pulling her down so she was also sitting with them on the ground.

"it wasn't really a joke to be honest, it was more of a pathetic attempt at humor, which managed to break the past two weeks of tension", he explained.

"Thank God too", muttered Ron, "I really do think I was about to go barmy".

"Well Ronald, with you, it's never much of a stretch", Ginny grinned at him.

"Hey, I'll have you know that that's seriously offensive Ginevra!", Ron aimed a swot at her, but she danced out of the way, laughing. Harry glanced over at the tree the tire swing was hanging from. It honestly didn't look too different from the tree he had been leaning against in the forest just a few minutes ago, but suddenly, his heart felt lighter than it had in months; he was laughing in the sunshine with two of the people he loved most, and everything was most definitely different.


	3. The Day Trip

"So this is really the official museum of the Chudley Cannons?"

Harry stared around bemusedly at the small, dingy room he, Ron, George and Ginny were all standing in.

"Yep", Ron replied happily.

It had taken some convincing, but eventually, George had agreed to come with them. This fact was mostly due to Mrs. Weasley though, who, fed up after ten minutes of listening to them talking through George's door, trying to coax him out, had stormed over brandishing her wand and shouting that if he didn't come out _that instant_ she would blast the door off its hinges. George had emerged a moment later, quite red in the face, and refusing to meet any of their eyes.

"Honestly Georgie", Mrs. Weasley said softly, her wand falling to her side, and her anger dying down the minute she had laid eyes on her woebegone son, "he certainly didn't die so you could waste away in your room. Go out and live a little."

So that was why, on a lovely Tuesday afternoon, George had finally left his room, and had come to join them on their expedition to the world's only Chudley Cannons museum.

Privately, Harry thought there was probably a _reason_ why it was the only one in the world. The small room held such artifacts as a yellowed newspaper clipping, detailing the Cannon's sole win of of the twentieth century, a moldy looking pair of bright orange robes which had belonged to the team's first ever captain (famous for leading the team to crushing defeat in their first ever season), as well as a tarnished silver cup, which Ron was now pointing excitedly to.

"Harry, come look at this!"

Harry peered at it through the glass, trying to make out the words inscribed on it.

"It's from when the Cannons won the league cup!"

"er...are you sure about the Ron?" Harry tried not to sound too disbelieving, as Ron could be a bit sensitive when it came to his favorite quidditch team.

"Of course I'm sure! Well, you see, they didn't exactly qualify for the championship, but they decided to show up anyway, and what do you know, they came home with the cup!"

"wasn't that only because a tornado had chased away the spectators and the other teams, and the cup had accidentally gotten left behind?" Ginny's voice cut into their conversation, sounding amused.

"well...I suppose if you want to get _technical"_ Ron huffed in reply, sounding a bit put out, "but I think this cup, this whole _museum_ in fact, is a symbol of the Cannon's unbreakable spirit. Yes, they may have suffered a record breaking six hundred and thirty-two losses over the course of their history, but they will never lose hope. And neither will I for that matter!". Ron finished his speech, a proud look coming into his eyes, as he stared, lovingly, at the cannon memorabilia surrounding them.

Ginny made a gagging sound. "honestly Ronald, I'd better warn Hermione to watch out, it sounds as though you've fallen in love."

George, who had been standing in the corner with his shoulders hunched, and his hands thrust deep in his pockets suddenly straightened up and walked over to them.

"you know Ron", he said seriously, "I reckon you're right. In fact, you really remind me of this museum."

"Um, thanks George", Ron said, his ears turning red at the unexpected compliment.

"yes", George continued nodding gravely and looking around the room at the empty trophy case in the corner, and the spider webs growing across the curtains, "you're slightly pathetic and in need of a good washing."

"why...you...!" Ron spluttered, seemingly incapable of speech, while Harry and Ginny roared with laughter.

George too let out a soft chuckle before shoving his hands back inside his pocket and resuming his former pose. It was so quick Harry might have thought he'd imagined it, but he was sure, that for a moment, a small smile had slipped across George's face.

After they emerged from the museum, squinting in the bright sunlight after being in near darkness for an hour, they apparated to a small park near the burrow for a picnic. Mrs. Weasley had sent them on their way with a fully loaded picnic basket, and the threat that if they should return before supper, they would be put straight to work, washing dishes. Harry thought that she was probably relieved that they were finally getting out of the house, proof that their grief wasn't overtaking them; that things _would_ go back to normal.

Since Ron had been the one to pick the destination of their outing (privately, Harry couldn't think of a single more boring place that could have been chosen), he was the one that had to carry the picnic basket.

Panting, swearing, and walking several paces behind them, Harry could hear Ron muttering under his breath that his mother had probably put an undetectable extension charm on it and loaded half their pantry into it just to torture him.

"c'mon Ginny, why can't we just stop already?" he finally called out plaintively from behind them.

"I'll know the perfect picnic spot when I see it Ron, don't be such a baby and stop trying to rush me!" She replied airily, then met Harry's eyes and smirked.

Harry smiled back, and attempted to suppress a chuckle. He was sure Ginny was just trying to make Ron walk as far as possible while lugging the heavy basket.

Finally, after another few minutes, Ginny stopped in front of a willow tree, looked it up and down, and declared it the "perfect spot".

"it's about bloody time!" Ron moaned, dropping the basket with loud thud, "but Ginny", he glanced at the spot, "this looks exactly like the the last twenty bleeding willow trees we passed!"

"Perhaps to the unsophisticated eye", Ginny primly replied.

With a snort of: "women, _honestly!_ " Ron dropped to the ground and unlatched the wicker basket.

Peering inside his eyes widened, "well no wonder it was so heavy! Mum honestly _did_ pack half our pantry!"

Harry thought Ron must be exaggerating, but after seeing two whole roasted chicken, a flask of pumpkin juice, nine potatoes tartlets, four apples, and an entire cherry pie appear from the depths of the basket, he wasn't so sure.

Mrs. Weasley had apparently not underestimated the appetites of four hungry teenagers though, and after nearly all the food was gone, and they all felt slightly sick, they leaned back on the grass and stared up at the sky.

It was a clear, deep blue, with just a few fluffy white clouds drifting lazily about. So perfect looking, Harry thought, almost like a painting.

"what do you reckon that cloud looks like?" Ron stretched out his long arm, pointing.

They all stared at the cloud for a moment, thinking.

"you know," said George, "if you tilt your head to the right a bit, it reminds me of p...poor st...stuttering professor Quirrel"

"he's right", Ginny agreed, "it's got the turban and everything!".

"oh, hang on! The cloud's moving, now it looks more like a heart"

"if professor Trewlany were here", Ron snickered, "she'd probably say it was a sign that one of us was going to fall in love with a git wearing a turban".

"either that or die a gruesome death by getting stabbed through the heart by a turban headed nutter", Harry muttered.

"ah well", George said bracingly, "she always did like you the best Harry, the rest of us tried not to get too jealous."

"oh shove off!" said Harry, chucking a twig at George's head, "you wouldn't think it's so funny to hear the top one hundred ways you'll kick the bucket that month every _single_ divination class!" But he grinned nonetheless. It was good to hear George sounding a bit more like himself. They were _all_ sounding a bit more like themselves. Maybe this outing had been on par with one of Hermione's brilliant ideas after all.

* * *

On the way home they moved much more slowly then on the way there, their jeans now feeling uncomfortably tight and their stomachs overly stuffed. Ginny finally took pity on Ron and took a turn carrying the basket, but as Ron put it grumblingly:

"not quite as heavy when it's empty."

They finally reached the burrow just as the sun was starting to set, and Harry opened the door to the comforting sight of a flickering fire in the grate and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley sitting next to each other on the sofa, her head resting gently on his shoulder.

At the sound of the door opening, they both turned, smiles on their slightly drawn faces.

"How was your trip?" Mrs. Weasley asked in an encouraging tone of voice.

Somewhat surprisingly, George was the first to speak.

"Not bad." He mumbled, looking down, then quickly hurried out of the room, his footsteps could be heard creaking up the stairs.

Mr. Weasley turned towards them, eyebrows raised.

"Those are the first voluntary words I've heard from him this week, what exactly did you put in his tea?"

"Dad", Ginny groaned.

"Now darling, you know I'm just happy that you all seem to have had a good time today. It's been...rather a hard few weeks hasn't it..."

There seemed to be no proper response to this, as words could not sum up the emotional turmoil they had been experiencing, so Harry, Ron and Ginny sufficed with slight nods of their heads.

Mrs. Weasley smiled up at them, eyes suddenly looking rather watery.

"You all know how proud we are of you and of everything you've done, and..."

But she went no further, perhaps also experiencing the feeling of groping for words where none exist to bridge the vast chasm one faces. Instead, she reached out her arms lovingly towards them, and Ginny flew into them, burying her head in her mothers shoulder. Ron, a few steps behind, also reached an arm out towards them, and Mr. Weasley circled his arms around them, closing the gap.

Harry looked at the scene again, the bright fire, the loving parents, and suddenly felt like an intruder.

What had he done to to deserve to be part of this family? Sometimes he felt as if the Weasley's would have been better off if he had left them well enough alone.

Trying to be unobtrusive, he took a few steps backwards, and nearly sprinted away once he was beyond the door.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he was safe again, in Ron's bedroom. He leaned against the back of the door, chest heaving after running up several flights of stairs, and also, with some unidentified emotion.

He tore of his glasses and flung them onto his bed, burying his face in his hands. Nothing had ever been particularly simply in his life. But his constantly shifting and conflicting emotions of the past two weeks had taken a toll on him.

Some of the time he wanted to forget it had all every happened. Some of the time he desperately wanted to move on. And some of the time, like this very moment, he wanted to bury himself in the pain, if only to ensure that he had somehow not failed them all.

How had he ended up nearly exactly where he had begun that morning? It had been a day of sunshine and laughter, and most importantly of hope, so why did he feel as though his emotions had just been run over by a cement mixer?

Harry was saved from having to go through another intense look at his emotional state by something silvery whooshing into the room. Whipping his wand out he groped blindly for his glasses, which where still lying on his bed, and crammed them on, nearly poking out his eye in the process.

Staring around for the intruder, he was pleasantly surprised by the sight of Hermione's silver otter patroness, gliding through the air towards him. Opening its mouth, the otter began speaking in Hermione's voice:

"Have met mum and dad. Would like to know if we can stop by the Weasley's for tea tomorrow. Please reply!"

Well, though somewhat sparse in details, Hermione's reunion with her parents couldn't have gone _that_ badly if they wanted to come together to the burrow on the following day, thought Harry hopefully.

A moment later, the door banged open, and Ron walked into the room. Harry quickly filled him in on the message he had just received, only making eye contact once or twice. He still felt vaguely ashamed not just of fleeing from a tender family moment, but of witnessing it to begin with.

Ron nodded at the end of the news, and scribbled a brief reply to Hermione, which he gave to his owl Pigwidgeon to deliver. Ron was looking pleased that perhaps things would be all right between Hermione and her parents after all, before his expression slowly slid off his face. He was gazing intently at Harry and opened his mouth to speak.

"Look mate, I know we've had our share of intense conversations for the day, but you _know_ that you're part of our family, and that's all that needs to be said on the matter." He ended firmly.

Blushing almost as red as his hair, Ron quickly pulled on his pajamas, dove into bed, and shut out the light with a click.

A few minutes passed, as Harry lay on his bed, staring unseeingly into the dark.

"Ron?"

"Yeah", was the sleepily murmured reply.

"Thanks."


	4. An Unexpected Offer and Terrible Tea

The next morning dawned gray and overcast, seemingly reflecting Harry's mood, and after gulping down some bacon and toast, he was reflecting whether it would acceptable to spend the morning curled under his blankets (he never _had_ gotten a chance to find out what happened to Martin), when a sharp knock sounded on the front door. Looking around to see if anyone else in the house seemed interested in answering, he sighed, and slowly walked towards the door.

He was slightly shocked, upon opening it, to find his transfiguration teacher, professor McGonagall standing on the doorstep, looking a bit out of place among the usual collection of muddy wellingtons.

"Er...professor", he said, goggling at her.

"No need for that 'professor ' business anymore, Potter", she said, briskly stepping into the house. "As you are no longer a student at Hogwarts and as I have seen you fight more bravely than Wizards decades older than you, I believe we can treat each other as equals, and you may now call me 'Minerva'." She then proceeded to smile at him in an almost un-McGonagall like fashion until Harry managed to wrench out, "all right...um...Minerva." Feeling all the while as though something dreadful might happen upon saying such scandalous words.

"Are Arthur and Molly around?" She queried, "I was wondering if I might have a word with them, as well as with you, Mr. Weasely, and Miss Granger."

"Just a moment...I'll go get them, shall I?" He said quickly, and then dashed into the parlor, still feeling quite uncomfortable about the whole "Minerva" business.

Mrs. Weasley was standing over an ironing board, looking completely lost in thought as she efficiently waved her wand over the shirt in front of her, immediately smoothing out all the wrinkles.

"Mrs. Weasley,"

She looked up, startled.

"Proffessor McGonagall...er...Miner...well, she's here to see you and Mr. Weasley if you've got a moment."

"Of course Harry dear, but Arthur's just left for work, it's his first day back you know." She said, briskly untying her apron and marching towards the kitchen.

Harry had, in fact, completely forgotten that Mr. Weasley was returning to work in the Ministry of Magic that day. He and Percy (who had already been back at work for a week) were helping transition the ministry from the Voldemort's corrupt regime, back to a normal, functioning government.

Kingsley Shacklebolt had indeed been elected minister of magic in the emergency elections held last week, and under his guidance, the wizarding community seemed hopeful that things would go back to being all right.

Harry knew all this from Hermione, who had been keeping a close watch on the effects of the aftermath of the war. Harry himself had barely touched a newspaper since the battle, and had only once glimpsed a headline: "Harry Potter, the boy who killed (Voldemort)", before Percy had hastily folded up the Daily Prophet he had been perusing over breakfast.

He heard Mrs. Weasely's and Professor McGonagall's voices talking for a few minutes before:

"HARRY, RON, WILL YOU TWO PLEASE COME HERE FOR A MOMENT?"

Obeying Mrs. Weasely's call, Harry ambled towards the kitchen door. Opening it, he found Mrs. Weasley and Professor McGonagall sitting together around the large wooden table, and a very confused and sleepy looking Ron standing at the bottom of the stairs, still in his pajamas. Harry stifled a smirk, Ron clearly had not known that Professor McGonagall had come to call.

Professor McGonagall had the good grace not to give any sign of noticing the pajamas, but Ron was nonetheless, blushing a deep shade crimson.

"Won't you two boys sit down?" She said, gesturing to the pair of chairs across from her.

Once they were seated, she began in her usual crisp tones:

"I have come to discuss with you two, as well as Miss Granger, what your options are for this coming year."

Harry and Ron shot each other a glance. Harry was sure that Ron also had not given a thought as to what they would do this coming year. Getting through each day had been hard enough without worrying about the future as well.

"As headmistress of Hogwarts, I am pleased to announce that we will be offering an 'eighth year' so to speak, for all those seventh year students who were unable to come to Hogwarts this past year, as well as for those students who feel that their education last year was unsatisfactory due to," her eyebrows furrowed into a narrow line, "the Carrows and their 'teaching methods'."

"We are also offering the option for students who feel that they are prepared, to simply take the N.E.W.T.S., and provided that they score reasonably well, they will be granted a Hogwarts diploma."

Harry's eyes had been steadily widening during this pronouncement. Go back to Hogwarts? He had never considered such a thing. After everything he had been through in the past year, returning to the Hogwarts of his childhood seemed as impossible and distant as flying to the moon on his broomstick. And did he even want to for that matter? His childhood and school days seemed to have ended as firmly and abruptly as a book slamming shut, and he was no longer sure if he fancied returning to the beloved halls and classrooms of Hogwarts, when he had seen the bodies of his friends and comrades lying on the floor there just a few short weeks ago.

"I believe that the two of you could easily find employment even without diplomas given your recent actions, but nonetheless, I would advise you both, as well as Miss Granger when she is informed, to think over this offer." Professor McGonagall finished.

With that, she rose to her feet, gave them both a slightly stern nod and said to Mrs. Weasley, "Please give my best to Arthur."

She had just stepped out the door when she turned around once more to Harry and said, with a twinkle in her eyes, "If you do plan on returning to Hogwarts, I shall fully expect you to once again address me as 'Professor'." and then shut the door firmly behind her.

Ron was still looking somewhat bewildered from meeting his teacher in the kitchen while he was in pajamas, but he gave Harry an inquisitive look at this last pronouncement.

Harry just shook his head motioning to Ron that he would tell him later, his mind was spinning enough with the sudden dilemma placed in front of him without worrying about what Ron's reaction would be to the "Minerva" situation.

The rain had cleared up a bit, so Harry and Ron wandered outside to lie under the big oak tree, and discuss what should be done about the unexpected offer they had just received.

"I love Hogwarts and all, but... I reckon it's a bit like a favorite pair of shoes that you've outgrown. You're fond of them and everything, but it would be uncomfortable if you tried to wear them anymore, and you need something new." Ron said hesitantly.

"Mmmm", Harry said in agreement. The cool damp grass was tickling the back of his neck, and he was staring up at the leafy canopy above him, at the dancing patches of light that managed to peep through the leaves.

"But...I dunno...do you really think they'll hire me without a diploma? Bill's always going on about how the job market's murder and how he's lucky he got an internship at Gringotts because it's the only way he ever could have worked his way up to a job there, and that's on top of his being head boy and getting "O's" on all his N.E.W.T.S.," Ron said rather gloomily.

"Listen mate, we just saved the world, they'd be mad not to hire us." Harry responded, "and if they don't, then I'll just threaten to do to them what I did to Voldemort, that ought to give them a little encouragement."

Ron chuckled. "Blimey," he said, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand, "I haven't even properly thought about what I want to do since we had that career counseling in fifth year. Do you... do you reckon the ministry would take us on as aurors?" The tips of his ears turned pink while he said this, signaling his embarrassment at being so open about his ambitions.

"They'd have to be pretty thick not to at least give us a chance considering the fact that the three of us just defeated the most powerful dark wizard in history."

"That was mostly you mate," Ron replied quietly, "Hermione and I were just there for emotional support, which I suppose I failed a bit miserably at..."

Harry was not in the mood of having another argument with Ron about the fact that he _did_ have many skills and accomplishments to be proud of, and had frankly provided much more than emotional support during most of their hunt for the horocruxes, but he was saved the trouble of having to come up with a retort when Ron's eyes suddenly widened.

"Hermione! I hadn't even thought about what she's going to do, but I bet you eleven knuts that she'll be going back to finish seventh year." He said gloomily.

"Eleven knuts?"

"it's all the money I've got," Ron sounded thoroughly downcast, "spending the year on the run wasn't exactly a money making opportunity."

"Do you really think she'll go back?" Harry prodded, "I mean, she's also been through every thing we've experienced, in some ways she's been through more, always taking care of us and being the responsible one, don't you think she might also feel like she's too...well...old to return to school?"

"Harry, this is _Hermione_ we're talking about," Ron groaned, "there's no way she'd ever pass up an opportunity to learn more! Besides, I'm pretty sure it's her life's aspiration to earn "O's" on at least seven N.E.W.T.S."

"I suppose you're right..." If one of his best friends would be returning to Hogwarts, it made Harry's decision that much more complicated.

"Do you know what this means?" Ron sounded panicky, "she'll go back to school and I won't and then she'll fall in love with someone else! I read in Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches that long distance relationships should really be called 'the dementor's kiss of dating'"

Harry rolled over onto his stomach to get a better look at Ron.

"Do you honestly believe that Hermione's going to fall in love with someone else? You two've liked each other since...what...you were twelve? You've been through more together than most people in the world, and you think she'll just march into Hogwarts and start dating McLaggen again or something?"

"Well, when you put it that way, I suppose it doesn't sound _particularly_ likely," said Ron grudgingly.

Harry rolled over onto his back again. He had just remembered something about his _own_ life. Ginny would certainly be returning to Hogwarts for her final year, and she and Harry, unlike Ron and Hermione, had not just spent a year together, never mind being best friends since they were eleven. Of course Harry and Ginny had known each other for years, but it hadn't been until the end of Harry's sixth year that any kind of romance had begun between them, and Harry had quickly ended it out of fear of putting her in danger. Seeing each other around the burrow last year had been awkward and painful, and except for one memorable kiss that Ginny had given him on her birthday, their relationship had progressed no further.

Since the war had ended, they hadn't spoken to each other about where things were headed. He knew he still loved her, and he was fairly certain she felt the same way, but he didn't want either of them to rush into anything while they were still grieving. Would _their_ relationship be able to survive a year apart? Feeling slightly sick at the thoughts that had just arose unbidden in his mind, he squeezed his eyes shut, willing them away.

"Bloody hell!" a scrambling noise next to him and a sharp poke in his leg caused Harry to give a grunt of pain and quickly open his eyes. Ron had apparently just inadvertently kicked him in the shins in an attempt to leap to his feet.

"What time is it?" he said, his eyes looking slightly wild.

"Quarter to two," said Harry, checking his watch while massaging his leg with his other hand.

Ron gave a shout and raced off in the direction of the house, yelling over his shoulder at Harry: "I TOLD HERMIONE TO COME WITH HER PARENTS AT TWO AND I COMPLETELY FORGOT TO TELL MUM!"

Harry saw Ron round the corner and then heard a loud shriek and the sound of several squawking chickens. From the sound of the shouting it seemed as though Ron had just crashed into his mother carrying a basket of clean laundry, and that having fallen into mud, the laundry was no longer quite as spotless.

"BUT MUM!" he heard Ron bellowing. "THE GRANGERS ARE COMING IN FIFTEEN MINUTES FOR TEA!"

This was followed by more shouting from Mrs. Weasley, and Harry heard phrases such as "IRRESPONSIBLE" and "HONESTLY RON, DO I NEED TO BUY YOU A REMEBERALL LIKE NEVILLE'S GRANDMOTHER SUGGESTED?" waft around the corner. Deciding he'd prefer to avoid this particular family dispute, Harry got to his feet, and turned quickly on his heel, Disapparating.

He arrived a moment later in Ron's bedroom, and spent the next several minutes trying unsuccessfully to flatten his hair and wipe the grass stains off his jeans. He figured the least he could do for Hermione was try to make a good impression on her parents, considering the fact that they had just spent a year on the run and living in a tent together.

Then, after listening intently at the top of the stairs for a few moments, he judged it was safe to come down. In the kitchen, he tried to offer Mrs. Weasley some help, but she quickly shooed him away, still muttering darkly about Ron under her breath. Her wand was a blur as she swept it this way and that around the kitchen, various food items and dishes leaping out of cupboards to arrange themselves neatly on the table at her command. Harry found Ron sitting moodily on one of the chairs in the corner of the parlor, also with a large comb in hand and his hair looking somewhat neater than usual, although there was still a large piece of grass sticking out of the back which Harry quickly pointed out to him.

"Honestly, you'd think I'd killed someone or something the way she was going on," He grumbled.

"Hmmm," was Harry's only response, he'd found that it was never a wise idea to take the opposing side in an argument with Mrs. Weasley.

A few minutes later the doorbell rang, and Harry and Ron quickly jumped to their feet and went into the kitchen. He had seen Mr. and Mrs. Granger a few times before, but this was the first time he was officially meeting them. Mrs. Granger had Hermione's curly brown hair and was clutching her purse nervously, Mr. Granger wore thick framed glasses, and something about his mouth reminded Harry of Hermione.

What followed was some of the most socially uncomfortable twenty minutes that Harry had ever experienced. Things were clearly _not_ quite as chummy between Hermione and her parents as he and Ron had so hopefully assumed. Her parents kept giving her long searching looks with slight confusion and hurt in their eyes when they thought she wasn't looking, and Hermione herself seemed to be blinking back tears every few moments.

Mrs. Weasley was doing her best to keep the conversation going, but it proved to be a difficult task.

"It's so lovely to finally meet you both properly! Hermione is an absolutely _lovely_ girl, you've done a _wonderful_ job raising her!"

This was met with silence and stiff nods from the Grangers who seemed to be having trouble smiling properly.

Mrs. Weasley attempted to rally again: "My husband will be _so_ sorry he missed the two of you! He's always been thrilled at the prospect of meeting muggl...er...dentists!"

Silence again filled the kitchen at the end of this pronouncement and Mrs. Weasley began to grow slightly desperate.

"You know I believe you met him once, when you came to Diagon Alley to buy Hermione's school things."

"Yes, that's right," She continued, warming to the topic, "he began brawling with another man inside a bookshop, I'm _sure_ you remember! I myself found the humiliation of the whole matter quite hard to forget!" She ended with a nervous sounding laugh.

"You'd be surprised how easy it can be to forget things." Mrs. Granger softy replied, and a positively miserable expression flashed across her face as she stared into the depths of her tea cup.

An even more awkward silence followed this statement, and Harry quickly looked down at his plate so as to avoid meeting anyones eyes.

He was quite sure that Mrs. Granger had been referring to the fact that she and her husband had forgotten that they had a daughter for the last year, as well as forgetting most of the true facts about their life.

Anger suddenly flared up inside of him. Why couldn't these people be grateful? They had been _safe,_ they had been _happy_ , and right at this moment they were _alive_ , when so many others weren't. So maybe things hadn't gone exactly how they would have liked, what did it all matter when they still had each other, when they were still a family? Something he himself had never truly known, he thought bitterly.

His anger died just as quickly as it had come when he began thinking about the parents he had no memories of, real or fake. His father, his mother, both had died in an attempt to save...him, their child. He would never be able to step fully into the Granger's shoes, or anyone's for that matter, but maybe, just maybe, there are somethings you will protect even when there's no hope, even when you know you can do nothing to save them. And maybe, he thought, you'd rather be given a hopeless chance to protect it than none at all.

After that, Mrs. Weasley gave up on trying to make small talk, and they all sat around the table in meditative silence, quietly sipping their tea.

After a quarter of an hour had passed, the clock on the wall suddenly began to chime, and the Grangers jumped up, insisting they couldn't possible intrude any longer. Harry and Ron shot each other relieved looks. Tea with the Grangers had been difficult at best, and downright depressing at worst.

Mr. and Mrs. Granger were politely pulling on their coats and thanking Mrs. Weasley by the front door, when Ron elbowed Harry in the ribs and pointed to Hermione, who was beckoning them into the parlor, a finger to her lips.

They quietly followed her in, and she closed the door softly behind them, then collapsed onto the nearest armchair, burying her head in her hands. Silent sobs shook her shoulders. Ron gave Harry a horrified look. This was _much_ worse than any uncomfortable tea. Ron walked over to the chair and sat down on the arm, patting her back tentatively.

"There, there, it...um...can't be _that_ bad." He threw a desperate look at Harry as though begging him to tell him what to say next.

He was saved from having to think up another reply though when Hermione suddenly lifted her head, tears streaming down her face.

"Oh yes it can!" She said, through slightly hysterical sobbing. "They've told me they still love me and that they forgive me about a hundred times, but they clearly don't! Didn't you see those looks they kept giving me from behind the sugar bowl? They don't trust me a bit, and the worst part is, I can hardly blame them." She leaned her head against Ron's shoulder and he slipped an arm around her before she continued.

"They've got their old memories back but...they're not quite the _same._ It's like taking a piece of paper and writing on it twice, all the words are still there, but they're a bit...muddled. They remember me and their old life, but they also remember their time in Australia, and the life that they _thought_ was real, and apparently, a whole lifetime, fictitious or not, is rather difficult to forget. Dad called Mum 'Monica' at breakfast this morning, and Mum keeps walking outside to tend the garden and then remembering that we don't have one here. It's frankly quite horrible to watch. And I _know_ they feel awful that they didn't protect me, and in the end, ironically enough, I feel just as awful _for_ protecting them."


	5. A Twilight Walk

Harry and Ron were yet again sitting outside, staring up at the sky, when Ginny and George returned home. The sky was a mysterious mix of dusky purple with hints of brilliant orange, as if the sun was trying to end it's time in the sky with an extra burst of beauty. A few bluish clouds lazily scudded across the scene.

They had been sent outside to de-gnome the garden (it was amazing how nothing-not even war and death- could stop the never-ending cycle of chores). But, as Mrs. Weasley said, "a little hard work is good for the body and the heart. Gives you time to think, without the sadness swallowing you up."

They had each halfheartedly grabbed a gnome (despite intense kicking on the gnome's end), and after a few good windups, had flung them as far as they could. It was surprisingly soothing.

It hadn't taken them more then twenty minutes though, and the cool summer night seemed too good to waste on an evening spent sitting in the parlor, so they had sat down on the grass.

Neither of them said anything, they both had too much to think about, so they merely sat together in silence, lost in thought.

The creak of the garden gate shook Harry from his reverie, and he looked up to see Ginny and George coming into the yard.

Harry knew that they had been visiting Fred's grave in the local cemetery.

He was unsure what they needed from him at the moment. He knew from his own sorrows that sometimes everything needed to burst out and your grief could be lightened by sharing it with others, but other times, silence and solitude are what's necessary instead.

He looked at Ginny's face questioningly. She smiled at him. It was a small smile, but sincere nonetheless, and he couldn't help but notice how beautiful she was with the radiant sky as her backdrop. George too was not looking as utterly consumed by his grief as he had in the past few days.

They slowly walked over and sat down next to Ron and Harry.

The four of them sat together in silence for several more minutes, and something about it began to feel pure and uncorrupted. Each of them experiencing their own thoughts and emotions, each of them their own world, yet they could sit here together, and silently offer each other support. They could be a listening ear and shoulder to lean upon even when no words were being said. It was amazing, Harry mused, how possible it was to speak and communicate in a language that was unspoken.

Eventually though, Ginny broke the silence. She had been gazing at Harry and then looking away for several minutes when she finally said, "Harry, I was wondering if I could have a word with you."

"Um, yeah," he replied, clearing his throat awkwardly and getting to his feet. He had a shrewd feeling he knew what this conversation would be about.

He saw Ron and George too exchanging a look out of the corner of his eyes, and Ron said, "the two of you had better be inside before it gets dark!" in a slightly overbearing tone of voice.

Ginny just laughed as she walked over to Harry and gestured towards the small dirt road outside the Weasley's gate, "shall we take a walk?" she asked him.

"Yeah, alright," Harry agreed, still feeling nervous.

They began down the lane, large purple hydrangea bushes fluttered next to them in the evening breeze, and Harry was fairly sure he saw a pixie flitting from one to another.

His heart was beating slightly faster then usual and he glanced over at Ginny. Unless he was very much mistaken, they would finally be having the conversation about where exactly their relationship was going. Did she expect him to start?

Fortunately, Ginny began speaking a moment later.

"Look," she said pointing, "there's fireflies." This was not what Harry had been expecting, but he did indeed see several points of light moving in the leafy foliage and the two of them stopped walking and stood together in silence, watching them. They would flare a glorious yellow for a moment and then suddenly vanish, and just when he was left wondering if he'd actually seen it or not, he would spy another.

"They're quite lovely," she continued idly, "and make excellent targets for practicing an engorging charm. Percy was always a bit terrified of them, said there's something not quite natural about a creature who's rear end lights up, so it was fairly entertaining whenever the twins or I would bewitch one to grow enormous and follow him around."

Harry grinned at the unexpectedly amusing thought.

"But that's not really what I want to talk to you about," she pressed on, looking at him intently.

"I heard from Mum about McGonagall's visit. You know, that you all have the opportunity to come back to Hogwarts for another year. And she wanted to know what was happening between...well...us."

Harry could feel himself turning red. Mrs. Weasley was the closest thing he had to a mother, and he didn't exactly fancy her and Ginny discussing their romantic relationship.

Ginny calmly continued, "I told her that we hadn't had chance to sort things out with everything that's been going on, but it did make me feel like maybe we had better talk things over sooner rather than later."

"Er...right...I agree." Said Harry lamely, Ginny had paused at this point as thought expecting a response.

"My feelings for you haven't changed." said Ginny straightforwardly, "and even if you don't come back to Hogwarts, I believe that we can make things work."

A intense feeling of relief rushed into Harry's stomach. She did still love him.

He took a deep breath. "Mine...my feelings haven't either. I, well I thought about you a lot this past year. Even if we aren't together at Hogwarts, I think we can manage." He grinned at her, a feeling that reminded him of the effects of Felix Felicis was rapidly filling him up.

She smiled back. "I suppose it's never really been a good time for us aside from those few weeks, when was it? More than a year ago I suppose...but regardless of whether we're together at Hogwarts this year, at least we have this summer."

And then she took two steps towards him, reached up, and suddenly, they were kissing, and all felt right in Harry's world.

It was a good amount of time later when Harry and Ginny returned to the house, walking hand in hand.

The rest of the Weasley family was grouped in the parlor Mrs. Weasley was knitting what appeared to be a large maroon sock, who's color made Harry sure that it was intended for Ron. Mr. Weasley and Percy were sitting together over a table in the corner, talking quietly and scribbling things on very large rolls of parchment, and Ron and George were playing chess on the floor.

They all looked up at the sound of Harry and Ginny entering the room, and Harry began to feel distinctly uncomfortable at their scrutinizing stares. Thankfully Mrs. Weasley ended the moment by smiling serenely at them and saying, "I hope you both enjoyed your walk."

"yeah, yeah we did, it was really nice, I've just got to go and...er..." he searched desperately for inspiration, eager to leave the room, and get away from the half suspicious half resigned look Ron was giving him, "send an owl to Hermione!" there, that was perfect. "yeah, I don't think Ron and I remembered to tell her over tea about what McGonagall said to us."

"Blimey!" Ron seemed alarmed, "I can't believe I forgot! She's going to kill me that I knew for a whole day and didn't tell her...maybe you _had_ better get me that remeberall Mum...".

"Well, I'll just go write to her then, shall I?" Harry quickly interjected, and grinning once more at Ginny, he left the room and bounded up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

After actually writing to Hermione and attaching the letter to Pigwidgeon (the loss of Hedwig was still sometimes painful even now, more than a year later), Harry sat down on his bed. The euphoric feeling he had from his walk with Ginny was still coursing through his veins.

A moment later the door creaked open and Ron walked in, still looked a bit suspicious. Harry quickly tried to wipe the happy expression off his face.

Ron sighed, and sat down on the floor next to Harry's bed. "Listen mate, it's all right, Ginny's just announced to us that you and her are officially going out again, and like I told you before, I'm okay with it, it's just still strange..."

Harry nodded. He still found Ron and Hermione's relationship to be a bit peculiar and awkward for him at times, and he had suspected that they might head in that direction for years.

"I wanted to let you know though, that...well...I've just been discussing it with Mum and Dad while you and Ginny were on your walk, and...I'm not going back to Hogwarts."

Harry was not completely shocked at Ron's decision, but he was surprised at how quickly Ron had been able to come to a definite conclusion.

"it's like we were saying before, I just don't think I could go back to school and be a good little school boy (well actually I never was much of one anyway...) after...everything."

"I also told them about how I'm interested in becoming an auror, and Dad told me he can get me an interview with the auror department maybe even as soon as next week, and he said that he thinks I'd be good at it." Ron finished his pronouncement with a distinct note of pride in his voice.

"Wow, that's...incredible Ron!" Harry felt genuinely happy for him. If they could both work together in the auror department, it would be excellent! Still, he hadn't actually decided anything yet for himself, was he really going to be so quick to give up on going back to the first place he had ever felt truly at home?

"But," Ron quickly cut in, "don't tell Hermione anything, I want a chance to speak to her before anyone else does."

"No problem," Harry reassured him, "I suppose she and I still have some decisions left in front of us..."


	6. Time With Teddy

A few days later, a large brown screech owl swooped into the Weasley's kitchen while Harry and Ron were eating lunch.

It landed on the middle of the table knocking Ron's cup of pumpkin juice over onto his plate. Ron swore and attempted to shoo the owl away, but it merely ruffled it's fathers and stared at him coolly.

"Won't leave until it delivers it's sodding message," Ron growled, attempting to reach for the letter, but the owl quickly fluttered out of his reach and neatly dropped the letter onto Harry's lap.

Harry picked it up slightly puzzled, he didn't recognize the handwriting and he wasn't sure who exactly would be writing to him anyhow.

Oh yes, of course there were lots of people wanting to thank him for defeating Voldemort and all that, but protective wards had been put up around the Burrow so that only owls from people he and the Weasley's knew could enter.

The only owls Harry had gotten recently were from Hermione, and this old fashioned and scrawling cursive didn't remotely resemble her writing.

Curiously, he slit open the envelope and took out the piece of parchment.

"Dear Harry," the letter began.

"As I'm sure you are aware, you were appointed godfather of my grandson, Teddy Lupin, by his late parents, Remus and Nymphadora.

As such, I was wondering if I could trouble you to watch Teddy today at three o'clock as I have several errands I need to run in Diagon Alley, and I would prefer not to take him with me.

Kindly reply at your earliest convenience, and I will be happy to drop him off at the Burrow if you wish.

Sincerely,

Andromeda Tonks"

Harry scanned the letter over a few more times, slowly digesting it.

He had seen Teddy only twice before. The first time had been at Remus' and Tonks's funeral, where had had only dimly registered a wailing, magenta haired baby clutched in Mrs. Tonks arms, through his own haze of pain.

The second time he had seen Teddy was last week, Mrs. Tonks had come to the burrow for dinner, and Harry had actually held him, albeit cautiously, as he had been slightly afraid of dropping him.

He was eager to have a connection with his godson (could he really be a godfather? It still sounded strange to him, even after more then a month of those words floating around in his mind) but he had no experience in watching children.

The closest he had ever come to it was looking after Mrs. Figgs cats for five minutes on one of his forced visits to her house when he was ten, and this was only due to the fact that she had been busy chasing the mailman down the street trying to give him a letter before he continued on his route.

Besides, seeing Teddy was painful, he was so small, so innocent, and when he had looked up at Harry last week with Lupin's gray eyes, and a lavender thatch of hair sprouting out of his head strongly reminiscent of Tonks's hair color the first time Harry had met her, Harry had felt waves of guilt and sorrow threatening to engulf him.

Teddy was an incredibly poignant reminder of Lupin and Tonks, both so young, and so _good_ , and Harry couldn't help but yet again feel guilty over two more beloved people that he had been unable to save.

In many ways, Teddy reminded him of himself, both orphaned as infants, he, like Harry, would never even know his parents. But maybe this was his chance to write a different ending to Teddy's story then how his own had turned out.

If Sirius had been a presence in his life since he was a baby, wouldn't everything have been different? Teddy also had a loving grandmother, which was much more then Harry could say about the Dursleys.

Maybe this was Mrs. Tonks's way of giving him an opening to be involved in Teddy's life, and if that was the case, he owed it to Remus and Tonks to take her up on it.

Right, he told himself firmly, this can't be much harder then the cats. And with that final thought in mind, he briefly scribbled a reply.

Promptly at three o'clock, a knock sounded on the Weasley's front door.

Harry leaped up from the armchair in the living room where he had been nervously tapping his fingers against the frayed edges of the seat, and went to answer it.

As soon as he had made up his mind about watching Teddy, he had informed Ron (who had been leaning over the table to read the letter over Harry's shoulder anyway), and then went to ask permission from Mrs. Weasley before he sent his reply.

She had immediately acquiesced but seemed slightly amused at the prospect. She had also been quick to assure Harry that she would be in the vicinity should he need her.

Ron and Ginny had also both agreed to help him.

Ron had generously shared all his knowledge about babies with Harry: "All I know is that they cry and somethings usually coming out of one end or another."

Ginny had seemed thoughtful, "of course I'll help you, but I've never looked after a baby so little, he's only about a month and a half old. You have to be extremely careful with babies that small." she gave Ron a pointed look.

All in all, they had done their best to prepare for the visit. They had brought down an old crib and some baby toys from the attic. Harry had also been busily removing all dangerous looking items from the floor when Ginny had seen him putting Mrs. Weasley's basket of knitting needles on top of the mantle and burst into laughter .

"He's only a month old!" she had said between giggles, "he's not crawling yet!"

"Well...better safe then sorry!" Harry replied, slightly defensively, he had been feeling like an exceedingly responsible godfather up until that point.

But now, the moment had arrived, and Harry quickly walked into the kitchen to answer the door.

He hesitantly opened it. Mrs. Tonks (or should he call her Andromeda? He had thus far avoided directly addressing her to circumvent this uncertainty) was standing on the stoop holding Teddy in her arms.

As with the first time he had seen her, Harry was subtly reminded of her resemblance to her sister, Bellatrix Lestrange, but every time he had seen her so far, he saw Bellatrix less and her own features more. She still had light brown hair like the first time he had met her last summer, but it was now liberally streaked with gray, and there were far more wrinkles around her care worn eyes.

She smiled at him, "Thank you so much for agreeing to watch Teddy. It's been so many years since I've had to look after a baby that I'd forgotten how exhausting it can be. Any breaks I can get are very much appreciated."

"Really it's no problem!" Harry was quick to reassure her as he stepped aside to allow her to come in, "I'm really glad that I'll be getting to spend some time with him!"

Mrs. Tonks carefully placed a sleeping Teddy in Harry's arms. His hair was light green today, and he looked incredibly tiny wrapped up in a thick fleecy blanket. Sensing his change in position, he squinched up his eyes for a moment, before inserting his fist into his mouth and beginning to suck on it. After another few moments, his breathing again evened out, signifying is return to sleep. Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

"Right," said Mrs. Tonks, unslinging an extremely large bag from her shoulder. "Let me tell you everything you'll need to know for the next few hours."

"Teddy's bottle is in here," she said, pointing to a pocket on the outside of the bag, "I've placed a temperature regulating charm on it so you won't need to worry about warming it up or anything like that. He'll be due for a feeding when he wakes up from his nap. After you feed him, make sure to burp him. There's a cloth in the bag that you can put on your shoulder so you don't get your clothes dirty. He'll probably also need a diaper change at some point, you can find fresh diapers over here in the bag," she gestured, "as well as wipes and a changing pad. There's a pacifier for him in here, and if he gets fussy that might soothe him. I've also packed a rattle, an extra blanket, and extra clothes for him in case he needs it." she stopped at this point to give Harry a look, as if to make sure he was paying attention.

Harry's eyes had been steadily widening during this rapid-fire recitation of instructions. This seemed like it was going to be a fair bit more complicated then he had bargained for.

"um...okay," he replied.

"Well, I think I've covered just about everything then." she was still giving Harry a discerning look, as though trying to gauge if he could actually be trusted with her grandson, "do you have any questions?"

"...I guess not?" Harry had many, many questions, such as: how do you burp a baby? How do you fasten a diaper? And, how exactly were they going to make it through the next few hours? But he decided that asking questions such as these might further serve to put doubt in Mrs. Tonks's heart regarding his capability of watching Teddy, so he went with the safest route of denial.

"Well, Molly told me she'll be around, so make sure to ask her if you _do_ end up having any questions." she said briskly, setting the bulging bag down on the nearest chair, which creaked ominously under its weight. "But I'm sure you'll do fine." this afterthought sounded slightly as though she was trying to reassure the both of them.

She planted a kiss on Teddy's forehead, smiled once more at Harry, and then stepped out the door, shutting it firmly behind her.

Harry stared down at his godson, still sleeping peacefully in his arms, maybe this wouldn't be as hard as he thought it would be?

He walked slowly and carefully into the parlor, arms tightly wrapped around Teddy (if he was being completely honest with himself, he was definitely still afraid of dropping him), and somehow managed to gently lower him into the waiting crib.

The parlor door slowly creaked open and Ron and Ginny's heads appeared around the edge of it. Harry pressed a finger to his lips and gestured at the sleeping baby. They nodded and quietly walked into the parlor.

"He's really darling," Ginny whispered, gazing fondly at the tiny slumbering face peeping out from the blankets.

"He's so little!" Ron seemed surprised at this revelation, as though he had forgotten there was ever a stage of life before childhood. "also," Ron continued in hushed tones, "I sent a letter to Hermione and she's coming over soon, she want to see Teddy!"

They had seen Hermione sporadically the past few days, sometimes only for a half an hour at a time. Her parents seemed to have taken it upon themselves to plan as many outings and activities for them to do together as possible, in some kind of attempt at healing their damaged relationship.

Hermione was taking it in stride, "I mean, at least they _want_ to spend time with me." she had confided in Ron and Harry. But on the downside, it meant that she had been too busy running off to Shakespeare plays and antique dental instrument exhibits to spend much time at the Burrow. Seeing her would be quite nice, and maybe somewhere in her voracious reading she had come across a book about how to take care of babies, Harry thought hopefully.

They all quietly seated themselves around the crib. Ginny, absently flipping through an old copy of _Quidditch Through the Ages,_ and Ron intently reading a Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook that he had found in Charlie's room, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Ron's interview with the auror department was scheduled for Monday, just three days away, and he seemed fairly certain that they would start shooting jinxes and curses at him the second he walked through the door to test how good he was, and the only way he'd be able to pass was by memorizing everything in the N.E.W.T. Level textbook.

Harry merely sat, watching Teddy as he slept. He seemed so peaceful and so small, and it somehow comforted Harry just to watch his tiny chest rise and fall as he dreamed.

It hadn't felt like much time had passed when Teddy's eyes fluttered open, once, twice, and then came to rest on Harry. Sensing that this was not his grandmother, his lower lip began to tremble, he scrunched up his little face, opened his mouth wide, and let out a piercing wail.

Harry quickly leaped up and attempted to lift him from the crib, but it was much easier to hold a sleeping baby then it was to hold one that was awake and squirming.

Teddy continued to bawl as though being murdered while Harry tried to shift him to a more comfortable position in his arms, all the while silently praying that he would stop crying. Everything seemed much more dire with a wailing baby in the background, and he didn't want Mrs. Weasley to give a bad report to Mrs. Tonks...

"Here, let me take him while you go fetch the bottle," Ginny had rapidly come over and was reaching out her arms invitingly.

"Thanks," Harry said gratefully, placing the kicking bundle into her arms and bounding into the kitchen to retrieve the bag.

Now, which pocket had she said the bottle was in? After several tries, he finally located it and sprinted back into the parlor, where Teddy was still screaming.

"There, there," Ginny was patting his back soothingly and rocking him from side to side as Harry raced back in and handed her the bottle.

She grasped Teddy firmly in her arms and put the bottle into his open, wailing mouth. The crying stopped nearly instantaneously.

Ron had been watching the entire scene with wide eyes, "how can something that little make _that much_ noise?" he asked in a tone of wonderment.

Ginny merely rolled her eyes at him before smiling down at Teddy, who was now calmly sucking on the bottle.

Harry's racing heart had slightly slowed down from their first adventure in babysitting when Hermione walked into the parlor.

"Hello! I knocked on the door, but no one seemed to hear me..." at that moment, she zeroed in on Teddy in Ginny's arms.

"Oh my goodness!" she squealed in a tone of voice that Harry had probably never heard her use before, "he's _adorable!_ "

She rushed over and plopped herself down next to Ginny, "who's a little darling? Teddy is, Teddy's a darling!" she crooned, leaning over and beaming it him. Teddy stared innocently back at her with his large, gray eyes, still content with his bottle.

Ron gave Harry a look clearly meant to signify, 'what exactly is it with girls and babies?', but Harry just shrugged his shoulders in response. Teddy _was_ pretty adorable (how many babies have tiny button noses and fluorescent colored hair?) but he wasn't about to embarrass himself by tickling Teddy's toes and talking to him in the manner that Hermione and Ginny were currently exhibiting.

After Teddy's feeding, Hermione demonstrated to him how to properly burp Teddy ( 'no, no, not like _that_ , I read a parenting book once and it clearly said to hold them like _this_ when they're being burping...), and Ginny helped him change his diaper. All of this happened with Ron's running commentary on the sidelines ( ' _that's_ really how you change a diaper? That's disgusting! People must be mental when they talk about the 'joy of parenting'!'), but it abruptly ended when Hermione shot him a glare.

After the shock of waking up from his nap and not finding his grandmother there, Teddy was generally in an affable mood. But there were several instances when he began to cry, and they could find no discernible reason for the cause.

"he's not hungry or tired and we just changed him!" said Hermione somewhat desperately, who was holding Teddy on one of these occasions, "I don't know what he could want!"

"Here, let me have a turn holding him, maybe I can help," said Ron in an awfully nonchalant tone of voice for someone who had thus far never held Teddy.

"Well...if you're _sure_ ," said Hermione tentatively.

"'course I am," Ron casually reached out his arms, scooped Teddy up, and began jiggling him awkwardly in the air. Hermione stayed standing standing next to him nervously jerking her arms slightly out whenever Ron's bouncing became too vociferous for her liking, as if to catch Teddy if he fell.

Within a minute or two, Teddy's cries had turned into soft gurgling, and he reached out a pudgy little hand, and grabbed onto Ron's nearest finger.

"See? I knew I'd be good with babies," said Ron happily.

Ginny smirked, "they can probably sense that you're someone on a similar emotional and intellectual level as them."

Hermione though had stopped waving her arms desperately through the air under Teddy every few moments, and instead gave Ron a proud smile, which he grinningly returned.

As the afternoon wound down, Mrs. Weasley poked her head in to check on them.

"Everything going all right?" she asked Harry, who was currently holding Teddy.

"Yeah, I think we're managing," he smiled at her.

"I'm so glad to hear it!" she smiled back at all of them, "I've just received a message from Andromeda that she'll be here soon to pick Teddy up."

The afternoon had gone at once both very slowly and very quickly, Harry reflected, as they put away the many objects they had taken out of the diaper bag throughout the course of Teddy's visit.

A few minutes later he heard a knock at the front door, and Mrs. Weasley opening it and greeting Mrs. Tonks. He was about to push through the parlor door with Teddy in his arms when he stopped short. He heard sniffling on the other side, as though someone was crying, and Mrs. Weasley saying "There, there," in a comforting tone of voice. Harry quickly backed away from the door, not wanting to intrude, but he heard Mrs. Tonks's next words anyway.

"I've just been putting their bank accounts in order," this was punctuated by more sniffling, "she was just _so, so_ young. Only twenty-five, and she had _so_ much to live for, I mean, Teddy was a month old!" Mrs. Tonks's voice cracked at this point, but she continued, "why couldn't she have stayed home like we agreed? Why did she have to throw herself into the middle of that battle? Didn't...didn't she love Teddy and I as much as she loved Remus?" she sounded slightly agonized.

"Of course she did," Mrs. Weasley's voice was full of sympathy and comfort and shared grief, as only a fellow mother who has lost a child can empathize, "she loved you and Teddy more than we'll ever know, and that was partly _why_ she had to go to the battle. She wanted a world where Teddy can grow up safe and happy, a world where you don't have to live in fear for marrying a muggle-born. She wanted a better world then the one that currently existed, and a world like that sometimes needs to be fought for. But every minute of battle is worth it because there's a _purpose_ ,"

Harry had given up trying to quietly inch away from the door and was now listening intently to what Mrs. Weasley was saying. She was right, no one _had_ died in vain, they _had_ been able to create a better world. And even if it wasn't perfect, at least it was a work in progress, and that was miles ahead of where things had been before the end of the war. He looked down at Teddy, still protectively held in his arms, and he felt comforted at the sight of this baby who would grow up in the better world of their dreams.

He stepped closer to the door and listened for another moment, but he heard nothing more from the kitchen. Clearing his throat loudly he opened the door and stepped through it.

Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Tonks were sitting next to each other at the kitchen table, and aside from slightly red eyes, Mrs. Tonks seemed to have composed herself.

She smiled at the sight of Teddy, "and how was my little Teddy bear?" she asked Harry, gently lifting Teddy from his arms.

"He was excellent," Harry gathered up his courage to continue what he was trying to say, "do you think that maybe I could watch him about once or so a week?"

She was silent, and gave him a long look, her arms grasped shelteringly around Teddy.

"I mean, only if you feel comfortable with it," he added hastily, not wanting to force her into a decision.

"I think we can arrange that" she said slowly, a small smile slipping across her face. A moment later she added, "I'm sure something like this would have made Remus and Dora very happy."

"I hope so," Harry said quietly.

Later that night as Harry lay in bed, thinking about the day, he felt a quiet kind of happiness begin to fill him up whenever he thought about the time spent with Teddy. Yes, it had certainly been much harder then watching Mrs. Figgs cats, but it had also been much more rewarding, like when Teddy had bestowed a toothless smile upon them. Maybe there was something to this 'joy of parenthood' thing after all, was his last thought before he drifted peacefully off to sleep.


	7. Decisions Descisions

The morning of Ron's interview with the auror department dawned hot and sunny. Harry woke up when the first bright rays of sunshine touched his eyelids. Yawning, he glanced over at Ron's bed. Ron was sitting there, hunched up, his arms hugging his knees tightly to his chest. The N.E.W.T. level textbook was open in front of him, but unless Harry was mistaken, the page about distinguishing characteristics of vampire bats was the same one Ron had been on last night. Ron's eyes were opened wide, unfocusedly staring at the wall in front of him, with dark shadows just beginning to show underneath them. Harry wondered if he'd slept at all. Ron could get extraordinarily nervous when it came to demonstrating things in front of people.

"Sleep okay?" Harry asked quietly, sitting up in bed.

Ron just shrugged, which wasn't a particularly good sign, his gaze never shifting from the wall, where a tattered picture of the Weasely family had been stuck up with spell-o-tape. He made a pathetic picture with his slumped shoulders and striped blue pyjama pants that never quite seemed to reach his ankles.

Harry's heart sank. Ron needed a win. They _all_ needed a win. He'd known it was a mistake for Ron to try to rush back into life so quickly. He should have protested it more vociferously when he'd had the chance. The best he could do now was offer Ron as much support as possible.

"Listen mate, do you think I could come with you to the ministry today?" Harry asked.

Ron barely moved, just blinked once or twice as if reaffirming he was still in command of his facial muscles before finally responding a bit stiffly:

"I'll be fine. You don't need to coddle me."

Harry groaned inwardly, this was no time for Ron to turn proudly stubborn. He knew that having a supportive presence around in trying times could mean the difference between victory and defeat. He just needed to convince Ron that this wasn't about doubting him or his skills….maybe if Harry could convince Ron that this wasn't about _him_ at all.

"Say, I haven't been to the ministry at all since...well... _the end._ In fact, the last time I was there I'm pretty sure it was when we had just stolen a horocrux off Umbridge, a pack of dementors were chasing us, and then the entire ministry noticed the hubbub and tried to kill us." He grinned at Ron, "Good times wasn't it?" it was a little surprising how quickly these frightening moments could become jokes when they had been endured with a friend.

Ron's face began to soften a bit around the edges.

"So, I've been thinking about going back. Just to have a look around, make sure things are _actually_ all right and going the way everyone says they're going." Harry paused,

"You see I don't trust the news anymore, I've been forced to stop believing every word the Daily Prophet puts out after some shoddy reporting I happened to notice over the past few years. You know I think they may have learned some of their prophesizing skills from Trewlany", Harry said with mock seriousness.

The corner of Ron's mouth twitched at this last pronouncement.

"It was worth taking that bloody class just so we could have an easy source of jokes for the rest of our lives," he said, finally moving his eyes away from the wall and turning to face Harry.

Harry grinned back. He was sure that Ron had seen through his excuse, but he was glad he'd managed to help Ron thaw some of his nerves. And now that he'd said it, Harry realized he actually _was_ curious to see the post-war ministry. He had meant what he had said, he'd learned that sometimes the only things he could really trust were his own eyes.

* * *

Their shoes clicked across the smooth marble floor of the atrium. The high arched ceilings, the bustling crowds of witches and wizards, everything seemed the way it had been a few years ago. The only thing indicative of change was the large statue in the middle of the floor. Or at least the space that had once to be occupied by one. Gone was the monstrosity of tangled muggle bodies topped by wizards that had been there during Voldemort's reign, but the old statue with the magical creatures that had glorified wizards in a different sort of way had also not reappeared. Instead, a mound of canvas tarps covered the space, with a crooked "under construction" sign leaning against it. Next to this was a metal box with a neat placard that read: "Memorial Suggestion Box" and a slot in the top.

"Dad told me about this last week," Ron leaned over and muttered to him, "they're building a war memorial and anyone can submit their suggestion of what it should look like."

This conversation probably looked odd to passersby due to the fact that Harry was currently under his invisibility cloak. There hadn't been any polyjuice potion handy, and nobody knew when it would be completely safe for Harry to show his face in public as himself again, so Mr. Weasely had contacted Kingsley Shacklebolt and gotten permission for Harry to wear his cloak to the ministry and bypass regular security.

Mr. Weasley and Percy flanked Ron on one side with Harry on his other. They had all tried hard on the journey over to keep Ron preoccupied and calm. The result was that Ron seemed mostly alright, but every five minutes or so would turn a nasty shade of green and start to sweat, until one of them could think of something else funny to distract him with.

They continued past the atrium and into the lift. The metal grilles slid shut and the lift slid upwards until a cool female voice declared: "Level two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters, and Wizengamot Administration Services." Ron looked like he might be sick.

They all exited the lift and continued walking down the wide corridor until they got to the large glass paned door marked "Auror Headquarters".

Ron turned gruffly towards his father and Percy, "You can go on to work now. I'll be fine."

"If you're sure you don't want us to stick around…" Mr. Weasley was starting to look a bit anxious as well.

Ron just nodded, grim faced. Percy patted his shoulder and wished him luck before turning and marching away.

Mr. Weasley seemed about to walk away too, but then he turned back and grabbed Ron in a sudden embrace.

"We're proud of you no matter what," he said in a low voice, before he too hurried back down the long corridor that seemed to stretch further and further by the minute.

Ron sank onto the marble bench poking out of a nearby nitch in the wall, burying his face in his hands and grabbing on to his hair almost violently.

"Harry," he moaned, "I can't let them down, I just can't….not after...everything"

Harry slowly sat down next to him. He wished he knew what he could say to Ron. He wished he could find away to to comfort him and guarantee that everything would turn out alright. After all the horrors they'd faced, maybe what Ron still feared most of all was failure. Failing himself and perhaps even more importantly, his family.

"Five minutes until your appointment and then once it's over, it's over," Harry said in a matter-of-fact tone of voice, trying to calm him down.

The lift at the far end of the hallway clanked open, shattering the silence. Ron jumped at the sudden noise, already on edge and turned towards it. Suddenly, his shoulders relaxed and the first genuine smile of the day crossed his face. Harry turned likewise towards the lift and saw a familiar brown haired girl rushing down the corridor towards them. Hermione had come to the rescue.

"Oh Ron! Thank goodness you haven't started yet! I was so worried I wouldn't make it here in time to wish you luck!" She stretched out her arms towards Ron and flopped onto the bench beside him, unfortunately not realizing that the seat was already occupied.

"OW!"

Hermione uttered a small shriek and quickly stood up again, "Harry, is that you?"

"Yep." He hurriedly got off the bench and limped over to the opposite wall. Just in case anyone else tried to sit next to Ron.

"I'm so sorry!" Hermione was still peering at the now empty stretch of bench next to Ron, "But I do wish one of you would've thought to warn me that you were already sitting there!"

"Next time don't sit down quite so violently!" Harry retorted.

"Oy!" Ron interjected, "I'm in the middle of an emotional crisis over here, and you two are squabbling about who gets to sit where!

"Right, sorry," Hermione refocused on Ron, and then tentatively sat on the bench again, looking down at her clasped hands.

"Anyways, I rushed over here because I wanted to tell you that... I love and support you no matter what and I believe...with all my heart... that you can succeed at _whatever_ you set your mind to." She paused,

"Oh, and I'll hex them if they don't accept you. Not that they'd ever reject you, but just in case."

Hermione finished her speech and looked up into Ron's eyes. They were now shining a bright, alive, blue, and for the moment they sat very still on the bench, just gazing at each other.

Harry blushed, suddenly very thankful for the invisibility cloak. He probably wasn't meant to be seeing all this, but he stood, almost transfixed to the spot with a kind of horror at what would happen next. Fortunately for him, before things could go any further then just gazing, the door to the Auror Headquarters banged open and a sandy haired, friendly looking man with thick tortoiseshell glasses poked his head out. "Ronald Weasley?" Ron and Hermione quickly jumped off the bench, trying very hard, at least in Harry's opinion, to look casual.

"That's me," Ron walked forward. Shoulders back, face set resolutely.

"I'm Cagney. Peter Cagney. Interim head auror until things have settled down a bit more and they fill the position permanently. Come in, come in!" Cagney gestured Ron enthusiastically towards him. "We'll just tell your friend to wait out here," he grinned at Hermione before taking Ron by the shoulder and steering him into the office, firmly shutting the door behind them.

* * *

"Oh, do you think he's doing alright?" Hermione was anxiously pacing the corridor in front of the door, peering hopefully at it every once in a while.

"Relax, I'm sure he's fine," Harry replied from his reclaimed seat on the bench, "I know we're all a little nervous but there's really no way they can turn him down. He did just play a key role in defeating the darkest wizard _in history_. His 'on the job experience' alone is probably enough to make him head of the whole department."

"Don't exaggerate Harry."

"Fine, it should at least be enough to get him a junior auror position."

"Okay…" Hermione anxiously twirled a strand of hair around her finger while she continued her relentless march back and forth.

"Harry, have _you_ decided what you're doing this coming year yet?"

Harry's stomach turned over uncomfortably. He knew he was coming fast towards a hard decision. Maybe the hardest one he'd ever been forced to make. There had been many choices throughout the years, some agonizingly and excruciatingly difficult to carry out, but they had all had some kind of moral clarity. No matter how hard his path had been to follow, in many ways it had been a straightforward one. But now...now the battle was won..his destiny fulfilled, and his way forward in life was no longer imbued with the purpose and direction that the prophecy had filled it with.

He would never regret the end of the war, but from here on there were many decisions swathed in ambiguity that needed to be made. It wasn't wrong to go back to Hogwarts. It wasn't wrong to follow Ron to the ministry. But neither of them had an unequivocal assurity of "rightness" either.

Harry wondered if this was one of the hardest parts about growing up; that sudden push into the open air, knowing that no one has easy answers for your life, and that ultimately, you are the only one who can make your decisions. His future and what he would do with it was now resting squarely on him and him alone.

He finally shook his head in response to Hermione's question, then remembered that he was still invisible and she couldn't see him.

"No...I'm not sure yet. It's a lot harder than I thought it was going to be."

"I've decided," Hermione said quietly, "I'm going back to Hogwarts."

Harry couldn't say he was shocked by her choice, but it did give him a little jolt to hear it said so definitively. He now had one best friend going back and one best friend going onward, leaving him now, as he had often been throughout the years in their trio, stuck squarely in the middle, unsure of whom to follow.

"Congratulations Hermione, I think you've made a wonderful choice." Harry tried very hard to sound hearty. "Have you told Ron yet?"

"No! So please don't mention anything to him until we've had a chance to tal-"

Hermione broke off suddenly as a young dark haired witch with pale skin exited the lift and strode quickly down the hall. Hermione fell silent and tried very hard to look as though she hadn't just been having a conversation with thin air. The witch still gave Hermione a suspicious look before brushing past her and going through the door to the Auror office.

"Hermione," Harry said in a whisper, in case any one else popped up suddenly, "I think I want to have a look around the ministry before we go,"

"Fine," she gazed intently at the spot where he was sitting, "I'm coming back to the burrow for what will hopefully be a celebratory lunch this afternoon, so if you want to talk through anything with me, well, I'll be around. Decisions are hard."

Harry muttered a quick thinks, but even as the metal grilles of the lift slid shut, he couldn't quite seem to get her sympathetic face out of his sight. As he moved upwards, the words "decisions are hard," echoed in his mind in time to the clanking of the lift.


	8. A Near Miss at the Ministry

His mind still lost in thought, Harry stepped off the lift, choosing a floor at random. He began walking down the long corridor, following a flock of the little flapping paper airplanes that constituted inter-departmental memos.

A door suddenly opened ahead of him, snapping him back to the present, and an elegant looking witch and harried looking, portly wizard exited it. They began walking down the corridor towards him, still in the midst of what looked like a heated conversation, judging by the way the witch kept stabbing an accusatory finger toward the wizard. Harry quickly skirted to the side, and as they passed him he heard the witch saying angrily in a heavily accented voice: "but really, you must see 'zat 'zis is unacceptable! 'Ze people of my country are crying for blood. You British may believe 'zat Voldemor' only took 'is wrath out on you, but 'e and 'is army caused destruction on a continental level!"

"Madame," Harry felt a brief surge of pity for the wizard as he pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and mopped his brow anxiously, "please believe me when I say that the ministry is doing it's absolute best in this time of crisis. But we really feel we must first focus on capturing the remaining death eaters and rooting out any final traces of corruption in wizarding institutions, especially our ministry itself, before we can take the next steps of prosecuting death eaters and those who aided them, in the Wizarding Council for International War Crimes, as well as compensating victims."

"If 'zat is 'ze way you feel, then don't bother sending me anymore owls until 'zis ministry 'as decided to stop acting like a polite English man, and 'as started to take action," the witch snapped. She waved her fingers and a parasol appeared, which she opened in rather a vicious manner in the direction of the wizard, who jumped, and then attempted to appear casual. With a toss of her head and one last glare she strode into the lift, her high heels clicking against the marble floor.

The wizard leaned against the wall for a moment, looking rather ill and tired, then straightened his shoulders, visibly pulling himself together before walking determinedly back into the office. Harry followed close on his heels, managing to read the letters on the glass panes of the heavy oak door, which read: "Department of International Magical Cooperation", before slipping in, the door swinging shut behind them.

Harry was greeted by a crush of noise. About thirty witches and wizards were bustling around the large, open office, hard at work. Some of them sat at desks with small magical fires burning on the surface, conversing in many different languages with the heads appearing in the fires. Some were in front of typewriters, although they didn't seem to be doing any typing, instead waving their wands every once in awhile to keep the keys rapidly clacking away as they scanned various files. One wizard sat a desk situated on a platform next to a large, open window high up on the wall through which a steady stream of owls seemed to be arriving . Each one dropped their letters in a tray on his desk before wheeling around and swooping out again. The wizard picked up the letters, calling out "Madrid...Lisbon...and Bucharest," before sending them off to several different corners of the room with a flick of his wand.

Harry sidled up to the nearest desk where several witches and wizards sat clustered and animatedly arguing,

"...well since Gregoravich was murdered, Hungary is demanding British wands be sent without the import tax to help fill the wand shortage they're experiencing…" a young wizard with slicked back hair was saying,

"But that's absurd!" A witch with curly blond hair cut in, "with our economy in shambles and the galleon still dropping by the day we simply can't cut back anymore…

"Not unless we want Gringotts to collapse entirely!" a freckled man added, "on top of all the people who took out their money before going into hiding, ever since it was leaked that Voldemort had a...a hororcrux stored there, everyone else has been withdrawing their money left, right and sideways! They reckon Gringotts must be cursed or something,"

So the knowledge that Voldemort had used horocruxs had been leaked, Harry thought grimly. He supposed the public finding out just how Voldemort had remained alive all those years was inevitable, but he was surprised at the accuracy of their information.

"Still," another witch chimed in, "sustaining and strengthening our relationships with other countries is more important now than ever before. By demonstrating our competence and desire to reforge our bonds, we can begin to rebuild the trust that the ministry used to inspire, before...well…" she paused, "we needn't bring up bad memories. But we can prove to others and to ourselves that our ministry is stable, moral, and trustworthy once again."

"Agreed!" said another wizard, quickly jotting things down on a notepad.

Harry glanced over his shoulder just in time to dodge out of the way of a wizard rushing by carrying a tray filled with bizarre coins that seemed to be changing colour. He turned back to the group to listen to the end of the conversation but accidently bumped into a witch hurrying down the narrow aisle between the desks. She shrieked and tripped, the large stack of papers she had been carrying went flying into the air.

The din of the large room suddenly went silent as everyone looked for the source of the commotion.

The witch, with huge frightened eyes had drawn her wand and was backing away slowly from the spot in which she had bumped into Harry.

"I just bumped into something...someone...invisible," she called out to the room, "call the aurors," her voice wavered slightly.

Within seconds, a tight circle of witches and wizards were surrounding Harry with wands drawn.

"Show yourself!" the young wizard with the slicked back hair called out, attempting to sound commanding.

Harry's heart dropped. His chances of getting in and out of the ministry unnoticed were growing slimmer by the second. He wasn't ready for the harsh glare of the public spotlight again. He couldn't stand another round of having his name splashed all over the headlines, he could just picture it: Harry Potter- Savior or Sneak? Is the Boy Who Lived Angling to Take Over the Ministry? It didn't really matter that people thought he was a hero now, he'd done plenty of heroic things before and the media had always managed to twist it around when they were looking to scandalize the public and sell a few extra newspapers.

But he hadn't really cared what was written for years now, no, it wasn't the thought of being vilified or glorified by the press that was bothering him he supposed, rather, it was the end of the quiet, hidden life that he'd had for the past few weeks. Flashbulbs going off in his face and reporters elbowing each other out of the way to ask him whose death at the Battle of Hogwarts had hurt him the most, that was what he was afraid was about to come crashing down around his ears again. Harry sighed inwardly and was just reaching to take of his cloak when the door to the department banged opened suddenly, causing everyone to jump, and a familiar man came gracefully striding in followed by several aurors.

A grin spread across Harry's face as Kingsley Shacklebolt addressed the department in his slow, deep voice, "So, what seems to be the problem here?"

"Minister", the witch who Harry had bumped into spoke up, her voice quivering slightly, "I believe I bumped into someone invisible. Someone unauthorized is in here and I'm afraid it might be...well- a death eater".

A few people muttered angrily and the circle around Harry tightened slightly.

Kingsley cooly eyed the spot where Harry was standing for a moment. Harry prayed that he would understand it was him, and that he would extricate him from this mess.

"Well done," Kingsley finally said in his deep voice, "you've all done very well following the departmental security protocols."

"I am happy to inform you," he continued, "that this was just a training drill that was selected at random to be performed on several departments"

"From the moment you detected the threat", he glanced at his pocket watch, "the auror squad arrived in two minutes and forty-eight seconds. You may now return to your work and I will escort our invisible volunteer to the next department".

After a moment of silence, the people began to move and the small circle around Harry dispersed. Kingsley marched over with his wand still drawn to the spot where Harry stood, invisible.

"Kingsley, it's me," Harry muttered.

A small smile played over Kingsley's lips. "Your stealth leaves much to be desired," he said softly, grabbing Harry by the arm and steering him towards the door.

Several minutes later, Harry found himself sitting in the Minister of Magic's office, the invisibility cloak folded neatly in his lap, Kingsley sitting across from him.

Harry eyed the office with interest. It was large, almost as large as the the department they'd just exited, with a high vaulted marble ceiling, and tall windows that faced out over a sunny courtyard with fountains and swaying green trees. An imposing fireplace jutted out from the back wall, and several dark oak bookshelves lined the room, filled with stacks of ancient looking scrolls and gilded leather books. A golden gavel and a shimmering glass cube sat on Kinsley's desk next to several neat stacks of paper.

"Well Harry," Kingsley began,

Harry felt as though he was sitting in a teacher's office about to get a detention.

"What do you think of the ministry?" Kingsley finished his sentence and leaned forward in his chair, looking genuinely curious about Harry's opinion.

"Oh, er…" Harry was momentarily thrown off guard, he'd been expecting to have to apologize.

"Well," he said after a moment's thought, "it seems to be...good. People looked like they were working hard to get the wizarding community back on it's feet. You've done well rooting out the corruption."

Harry paused, thinking about the last time he'd been at the ministry, death eaters had been controlling everything, everyone had been walking around terrified of getting thrown into Azkaban or worse. Today was different, they hadn't hesitated to surround him, to point their wands at him when they had believed he was a death eater.

"And that's another thing I suppose," he said slowly, "the people are different. They may be frightened, but they don't seem afraid. Do you know what I mean?"

"Thank you Harry," Kingsley nodded, looking satisfied, "I believe I do."

It was a happier and more lighthearted group that returned to the Burrow that evening.

Ron would be starting his junior auror position the following week. He had his arm slung casually around Hermione's shoulders and was grinning widely as they walked down the narrow dirt path to the Burrow.

Mr. Weasley and Percy followed, discussing events at work in a slight undertone. Harry trailed behind them and caught a few snatches of their conversation:

"...set to go on trial in a couple of weeks...the Prophet will go wild.."

"...the department's still looking for him even though the trail went cold months ago…"

Harry sped up to join Ron and Hermione, he'd already heard Ron regale them with his experiences at the auror department at least three times just while walking out of the ministry, but it wouldn't hurt to give Ron another opportunity to feel happy about something.

"So Ron," he said knocking a few branches out of his way, "what do you reckon is in store for me if I decide I also want to join the auror department?"

"Well mate," Ron considered this seriously for a moment, his brow furrowing up, "I suppose they'd test you on all the basic jinxes and curses like they did for me, and then they'll throw in a few trickier ones to see what you really know." He grinned. "They thought they'd have me stumped with the bat bogey hex but I guess they didn't know I've got Ginny for a sister."

"And your patronus," Hermione interrupted proudly.

"Yeah," Ron smiled slightly bashfully, "they were pretty impressed with how easily I could produce my patronus, they said loads of ministry employees still can't do them even with all the rogue dementors that were swooping around last year."

"Really brilliant Ron!" Harry clapped him soundly on the back as they reached the front door.

The door burst open just as Harry was reaching for the handle and Mrs. Weasley rushed out to give Ron a hug.

"Oh Ron," she said pulling his head to her shoulder, "we're so proud of you!"

She sounded a bit tearful and Harry looked away.

Ginny bounded out of the house next with Bill, Fleur, Charlie, and George at her heels. In a moment, Ron was surrounded by his family.

Mrs. Weasley regained her composure and briskly began shooing everyone into the backyard,

"I didn't spend the whole morning in the kitchen for nothing!" she said, grabbing him and Hermione by the arms and pulling them towards the heavily laden tables.

The sun was slowly setting into the treetops and enchanted lanterns hung in the air which Bill had bewitched to spell out "Congratulations". There seemed to be enough food to feed a small army.

To Ron's delight, Ginny had again stupefied a gnome, but this time had stuffed it into a small set of robes to which was affixed a name tag reading : "Ron Weasley- Auror". It was perched on top of the drinks table and glared ferociously down at them all.

"Are you sure Hermione approves of that?" Harry nudged Ginny with a grin, "If we're not carefully she'll be starting a society for gnomish welfare next."

Ginny giggled as they walked over to one of the slightly battered tables, settling themselves onto the bench next to George.

Indeed, Hermione seemed too preoccupied with Ron to even notice the gnome. They were sitting at the next table over, Ron's arm still around Hermione's shoulder, Hermione holding onto his hand. They kept glancing at each other and then away, as though trying not to be terribly obvious with how much they wanted to look at each other. This seemed to have the opposite effect though, and in Harry's opinion, their quick glances and deep smiles seemed to signal the existence of an intimate world between them much more than obvious displays of affection would have.

Harry began filling his plate, Mrs. Weasley had outdone herself making steak and kidney pie, Yorkshire pudding, golden potatoes baked in gravy, and three different types of trifles for dessert.

The party was a quiet one, but happy. George had been sitting silently with an empty plate, gazing distractedly into the distance until Ginny flicked a strawberry from her trifle into his face. He shook himself, as though coming out of a daze, and then grinned reluctantly, taking the piece of pie she was proffering.

Harry glanced up and saw Percy watching this exchange intently. He was slightly surprised when Percy got up from his seat between Mr. Weasley and Bill, and walked over to their side of the table, sliding into the seat next to George.

Percy smiled kindly at George, and then slipped him a small piece of paper. George glanced at it for a moment, reading it, and then nodded and folded it up, tucking it into his pocket.

What was that about? Harry wondered. Percy and the twins had never been the closest of the Weasley brothers. But, Harry thought, if there was one good thing about tragedy, he supposed it was that it brought people closer.

The sky turned from orange to a dusky blue, and a few faint stars began to appear. Harry had just finished telling Ginny, George and Percy the story of his near fiasco in the ministry that morning, and Ginny and Percy were chuckling over it.

"You know, Malcolm Terris, the junior undersecretary of that department was bragging to me about how their department had the fastest security drill response time out of the entire ministry when I ran into him in the hallway this afternoon," Percy smiled, "I suppose I'd best not tell him that he didn't have much competition from the other departments."

"Harry," Ginny turned towards him suddenly serious, "Mum and I were planning on going to Saint Mungo's tomorrow to visit a few people. Would you like to come?"

Somewhat surprised, Harry paused for a moment before responding: "Yeah, I guess so."

George looked up, and then said softly, "I'll come too."

"Time to clear up!" Mrs. Weasley called out over the soft murmur of conversation. The dishes began stacking themselves and then soared into the kitchen through the back door. The tablecloth rose into the air and shook itself out, dropping a few crumbs on Harry, before it too flew into the kitchen.

Ron and Hermione strolled over, still smiling.

"I'm going home now Harry," Hermione gave him a quick hug, "Do you fancy dropping by later this week for dinner with me and my parents?"

"You'd best say 'yes' mate," Ron rubbed the back of his neck looking sheepish, "I said 'no' as a laugh and Hermione's wand actually shot some sparks out of the top."

"Oh Ron," Hermione grinned, "I was only joking. I knew you'd never pass up the opportunity for a free meal."

"Or the opportunity to get to know your parents better," Ron said, suddenly serious, "I want to know everything about you Hermione Jean Granger."

Hermione blushed slightly and looked down, smiling.

"Yeah, I'll definitely come." Harry grinned at the two of them. "They seemed really nice, and Ron's right- I've always been a bit curious about your life away from Hogwarts. I suppose this is our chance to find out."

"Fine," Hermione laughed, "but don't make me regret inviting you two! If my parents start showing you my baby pictures then that's it, I'll be confounding the both of you!"

She glanced at her watch, "I've really got to go now, I'm trying to leave out any guesswork about my life so I told my parents I'd be back promptly at nine."

"Right, I'll walk you to the gate." Ron reached down and took her hand and they walked off together, Hermione giving one last wave to Harry.

"You know,"

Harry turned around, Ginny had come up quietly behind him, "I'm not worried about the three of you." She looked at Harry's face searchingly for a moment, "Together or apart, there are some bonds that can't be broken."

Silently, hand in hand, they walked back together to the house.


	9. Sunshine in Rain

Harry sat in the kitchen the next morning, absentmindedly toying with a half eaten piece of toast as he waited for Mrs. Weasley and Ginny to come down. A few weak beams of sunshine shone in through the window. From the bank of grey clouds off in the distance, it seemed as though it might rain later.

A growing pit of apprehension was slowly taking over his stomach. They'd be leaving for St. Mungos soon and Harry had decided not to use polyjuice potion, to take off the disguises and the hiding and to let the world see him as he was. Mrs. Weasley had strongly disagreed with this idea, and although Harry firmly believed in never taking the opposing side in an argument with her, for once he'd decided to stand his ground. He hadn't quite been able to explain it to her, or even put it properly into words for himself, but it had something to do with the people that they were going to visit. They'd all been injured fighting Voldemort, trying to help him. Somehow he felt that he owed it to these unknown people to come as himself.

Ron ambled sleepily into the kitchen, still in his pyjamas, and settled himself into the chair next to Harry.

"So I take it to mean that you're not coming with us then," Harry said, raising an eyebrow at Ron's pyjamas.

"No, I'm not." Ron answered shortly.

Harry silently passed him the bacon.

Ron gulped down several pieces of with seemingly minimal effort before turning to Harry, "Why are you going anyway?"

Harry paused for a moment before responding.

"Ginny said there's some people we know from Hogwarts who are still there. That's why I'm going I suppose. Cheer them up a bit if I can. Show them they're not forgotten"

"I know there's people there...Lavender's still there, I think Padma is too...and also Angelina...Mum went to visit last week also, she told me about it." Ron stopped talking and looked down, a guilty expression on his face.

"What?" Harry prodded him.

"I should go, I know I should, but...it hurts to see people suffering, d'you know what I mean?" Ron finally looked up and met Harry's eyes, he looked miserable. "I never really used to get so bothered about these things," he paused, "I was probably even a bit insensitive to other people. I suppose though...it's like when you've got a bruise, if something presses it even lightly then it's really painful. I feel that way now."

Harry was silent.

Finally, he said, "No one blames you Ron. Everyone copes best in their own way. Don't beat yourself up over it."

Ron nodded slowly, still looking grim as he bit into a piece of toast. "I suppose I wouldn't have done much good cheering up Lavender anyways. I bet she's still mad at me, right?" He looked hopefully at Harry as though begging for an excuse.

"She's probably got some other stuff on her mind." Harry said, resisting the temptation to roll his eyes, "She was fighting for her life like the rest of us. I doubt she's had that much time to devote to weeping over the demise of Won Won and Lav Lav."

Harry heard footsteps and then the door of the kitchen creaked open and Mrs. Weasley walked in.

"We'll be apparating today," she said briskly, striding across the room and lifting her handbag off the coatrack by the door, which rotated, bringing Mr. Weasley's long dusty traveling cloak to the front. "I think it's best to spend as little time as possible in the open, I still don't want you to be hassled by everyone," she gave Harry a stern look. She was doubtless still miffed that he'd decided to go without any polyjuice potion.

"What about Ginny?" Harry asked her. Ginny hadn't yet taken her apparation test.

"She can side-along with me. Speaking of which," she strode over to the staircase, "GINNY," she called up loudly, "are you almost ready?"

"Just a minute Mum," Ginny's voice wafted down from several flights up.

Mrs. Weasley tapped her foot impatiently, glancing at her watch. "I told Andromeda that I'd drop by this afternoon for a visit. I certainly hope we get out the door soon."

A moment later, Harry heard light footsteps on the stairs and then Ginny walked into the room.

"See Mum?" She smiled at her mother as she tugged on a pair of shoes that had been laying in the corner of the kitchen, "It really was just a minute. Not a few hours like when Percy gets caught up fixing his hair."

Ron laughed at this.

"Fine, good." Mrs. Weasley was absentmindedly scribbling something on a piece of parchment. "Ron," she said, sealing the parchment with a tap of her wand, "Can you send this letter out with Pigwidgeon? I'm in a bit of a rush right now and I don't think Errol can handle another trip, he still seems exhausted from that letter he delivered last month."

"Yeah, sure," Ron took the letter from her and glanced at the name on the outside of it, "Hey, why are you writing to Lee Jordan?" he asked curiously.

"Never you mind," Mrs. Weasley said at touch brusquely, "Just see that that goes out this morning," She turned to Harry and Ginny, "Come along you two!" she said, stepping out the front door. At that moment the door to the kitchen opened yet again, and to everyone's surprise, George entered. He was still rarely out of his room, and Harry almost never saw him in the morning. They all paused.

"Wait Mum," George said, looking only at his mother and avoiding their stares, "I'm coming too."

Mrs. Weasley attempted to smooth the surprise out of her features, "Well, that's lovely dear," she said warmly,"I'm sure everyone will be glad to see you."

A few minutes later they were walking down the bustling London street towards the closed, run down looking department store in which St. Mungos was cleverly hidden. Harry wore a cap pulled low over his face. This was partly a concession to Mrs. Weasley and partly an admittance that she was right, he wasn't terribly keen on getting mobbed by a bunch of wizards either.

George had remained unnervingly silent on their trip so far, but Harry was hoping that he would become a bit more lifelike when they were actually visiting people.

Carefully glancing around to make sure that no muggles were watching, Mrs. Weasley stepped up to the giant windows and tapped on the glass.

The mannequin, wearing the same ugly pinafore it had been adorned in the last time Harry had been here several years ago, turned it's head towards them and then beckoned them inside.

They stepped one by one through the shimmering glass, entering the large and slightly chaotic lobby of St. Mungos.

A harried looking witch sat behind the reception desk, in front of which stretched a long line of people waiting to be helped. Some of them looked fairly normal, but others were clearly in need of medical attention. Harry spotted a witch with what appeared to be a rhinoceros horn protruding from her face, and a wizard who kept walking backwards and seemed unable to go forwards. The receptionist was currently in the midst of a heated discussion with a confused looking wizard who was loudly shouting: "Hospital? Why, I'm supposed be in America right now! They've elected me to be their prime minister!"

Mrs. Weasley bustled them quickly by the scene and towards the lifts, dodging around a worried looking witch who was carrying a wailing baby who seemed to have turned entirely orange. Mrs. Weasley stopped for a moment and turned sympathetically to the woman, "Swallowed some of Montjoy's Cleaning Potion, has he?" she asked. The woman nodded, anxiously as the baby continued to cry.

"Don't you worry dear," Mrs. Weasley said soothingly. "One of my children did just the same. Nothing happened besides for turning different colors, and that wore off after a few days." The woman thanked her, looking relieved, before continuing towards the doors at the far and of the lobby.

"Which one of us drank the cleaning potion Mum?" Ginny asked curiously.

"Oh, Fred drank almost a whole bottle of it when he was about one," Mrs. Weasley said, a far away look coming into her eyes, "He kept changing colors every few hours and his diapers were interesting shades for a week."

Ginny smiled softly. Harry snuck a glance at George. His eyes were fixed on the woman with the rhinoceros horn. Harry wasn't sure if he was listening or not.

Mrs. Weasley briefly consulted a small scrap of paper,

"Now, Lavender Brown's on the first floor, but Angelina Johnson, Padma Patil and Ernie Macmillan are all on the fourth floor. Maybe you'd best start on the first floor and work your way upstairs."

Harry, Ginny and George all nodded.

"Good that's settled," Mrs. Weasley folded the paper and tucked it back into her robes, "I'll be heading straight to the fourth floor because I promised Pomona I'd visit her."

"Pomona?" Ginny asked.

"That's Professor Sprout to you," Mrs. Weasley corrected her, steering them into the lift.

"I didn't know she was injured in the battle," Harry said quietly, as they moved smoothly upwards.

Mrs. Weasley's gaze softened as she eyed Harry, "Don't trouble yourself dear. The healers think she'll be just fine. She's only here until she gets back on her feet- and mind you, with that woman it will be sooner rather than later, from what I've heard she's been pining for her greenhouses."

"Pining," George repeated, smiling softly.

"What George?" Ginny asked.

But George just shook his head, his expression fading back to a blank look.

They stepped off at the first floor, promising to meet Mrs. Weasley back in the lobby in an hour and a half.

"Which ward is Lavender in?" Harry turned to Ginny.

"Hmmm, Mum forgot to tell us," she paused, "but I think it's the same one that Dad was in two years ago- ward three, for magical bites."

Harry's stomach turned over as he remembered that the last time he'd seen Lavender she'd been under attack from Fenrir Greyback- a werewolf.

"Yeah, that sounds about right," he said, beginning to feel truly nervous.

Ginny and George began walking toward the door. Harry stayed where he was.

"Do you think she's even in the mood of visitors?" He said quickly.

Ginny paused and turned around to face him, "We won't know until we ask her," she said calmly.

"Don't be a coward," she said, a note of fierceness creeping into her voice as she stared at him.

Harry nodded, and he and George followed her to the entrance. Just before they went in, Harry took off his cap and stuffed it into the back pocket of his jeans.

The ward was more full then when they'd visited Mr. Weasley here over Christmas two years ago. Nearly all the beds were occupied, and most of the curtains were drawn, giving a measure of privacy to the bed's occupants.

Ginny turned to a healer who was walking by, engrossed in reading a patients chart that had appeared to have a moving diagram of someone's skull in it, "Excuse me," she said, "where can we find Lavender Brown?"

"Bed number eight," the healer replied, gesturing vaguely towards the left side of the room while he prodded the diagram with his wand.

"Thanks," Ginny said.

They walked down the long row of beds, glancing at the names on the patient charts, until Harry heard someone say his name.

He looked up at the nearest bed and saw the hangings withdrawn to reveal Lavender Brown sitting up in bed. Thick bandages covered her neck and her left arm, she looked tired and ill, with dark circles under her eyes, but Harry was relieved to see that she was smiling, and looked pleased to see them.

"I thought that was you," she said excitedly, gesturing them closer, "I recognized your trainers as they went by- you've had the same ones since fifth year." She giggled.

They settled themselves in the chairs next to her bedside.

"How've you been Lavender?" Ginny asked, sounding concerned.

"Oh, alright I suppose." It was as though a shutter had drawn across her eyes, her smile vanished and she looked away from them for a moment. "They healers are hoping that I"ll be able to go home in about a week and a half."

"That's great!" Harry said heartily. He hoped Lavender couldn't tell how nervous he was right now. Nervous of saying or doing the wrong thing and missing the thin line of correctness in that tightrope walk of handling difficult situations.

"I suppose," she said gloomily.

Silence stretched widely for a moment.

"Lavender," Ginny spoke up, "Do you know our older brother Bill?"

Lavender shook her head.

"He was also attacked by Greyback." Ginny said calmly.

Lavenders eyebrows shot up.

George finally looked up from his lap and met Lavender's eyes, "He's okay," he said quietly, "He's married, he has a job, he's happy." He was silent for a moment before saying: "sometimes bad things happen to us, but we can still come out okay."

"Did...did the bites affect him?" Lavender asked hesitatingly.

"Well, he likes his steaks cooked rare now," Ginny said with a grin, "and he gets a bit antsy when it's a full moon. But in a big and significant way- no, they didn't affect him. He's still himself."

Lavender still looked downcast, "I was bit in my neck," she said softly, "the healers think that it might cause me more problems because that's the ideal place a werewolf can bite."

"Even if you were a full werewolf, you'd still be you Lavender," Harry spoke up, "you'd still be a good person. You'd still be brave and a good friend and someone who can recognize people just based off of the shoes they're wearing." He smiled at her.

"That's nothing," she said seriously, "Parvati can tell people apart when it's raining just by seeing their cloaks from behind- and everyone has the same black cloak! I don't know how she does it."

"Magic." George said solemnly, which caused Lavender to burst out laughing.

They chatted for another fifteen minutes, Lavender doing most of the talking. She chattered on about the newest Weird Sisters song (a tribute to those who fell in the Battle of Hogwarts), how she was thinking of cutting her hair, and how terribly boring it was to be stuck in the hospital all day, but, of course, it could be much worse.

Harry, Ginny and George all nodded along, inserting an occasional comment or noise of agreement when Lavender paused. It seemed to be a terrible relief for her to finally have someone to talk to.

In the middle of Lavender's description of the dress robes she was planning to buy when she finally got out of the hospital, a healer poked her head around the curtains, "Are you ready to have your bandages changed, dear?" she asked.

"I suppose so," Lavender said. She turned to them, "You'd better go now, but thanks for visiting, I really mean it."

"Feel better," Harry said. George waved goodbye and Ginny gave her a brief hug. They trooped out of the ward heading towards the stairwell in silence.

They reached the third floor and walked down an imposing hallway lined with portraits of healers. Harry had the uncomfortable feeling that several of the portraits were whispering about him, and one small painted wizard holding what appeared to be a spleen in his hands, was running from painting to painting to keep him in sight.

Harry hunched over slightly and looked at the floor. Several people passing in the corridor also seemed to be eyeing him curiously.

"Oof!" Someone's shoulder rammed into Harry and he stumbled slightly. He looked up and saw a dark haired wizard around his own age who had just collided with him.

"Sorry mate," the wizard said apologetically, "I didn't see you there,"

"Here," Harry leaned down and picked up a small piece of paper which had fluttered to the ground when they had collided. It was a chocolate frog card, and with a jolt, he realized that there was a picture of his face on it. Oddly, the the word "Who?" was scrawled across it in messy black writing.

Slightly puzzled, Harry quickly handed it back to him and turned away, rapidly walking down the hallway towards George and Ginny.

They reached the door bearing the placard "Spell Damage", and Ginny pushed the door open.

This ward was bigger than the one they'd just left, and even more crowded. A strong smell of antiseptic pervaded the room, imperceptibly reminding him of Aunt Petunia's house.

They began walking down the long aisle which stretched in between the two rows of beds, scanning each side for people they knew.

They were about halfway down when the sound of the door opening echoed in the room. Harry turned around, a healer was walking in, supporting a tall, black girl who was leaning heavily on her arm.

George looked over too and a strange look came into his eyes. The girl noticed him at the same moment, "George?" she called out.

George walked over, at first slowly but gaining speed with every step. "Angelina," he said softly as he reached her.

An unspoken something passed between them as they gazed at each other for a long moment.

"I'm so sorry," Angelina said quietly, reaching out her arms to George and wrapping him in an embrace. Something in George finally seemed to relax, as though the weeks of tension etched into his face were vanishing.

George held Angelina in his arms for another moment and then stepped back, offering her his arm to lean on as the healer had tactfully stepped away. "Here," he said, "I'll walk you back to bed." His voice sounded truly awake for the first time in a long time.

Ginny elbowed Harry who was staring perhaps too openly at the scene which was playing out, "C'mon," she said quietly, "let's go find Ernie and Padma."

Harry raised an eyebrow at her, glancing back at George and Angelina, but she just shrugged slightly.

Padma, it turned out, was sleeping, but Parvati was sitting in a chair next to her bedside so they were able to say hello to her.

"It's nice of you to come," she said, sounding a bit glum. "It gets terribly boring here, but I don't want to leave Padma alone when Mum and Dad are at work, so this is where I've spent most of the past month."

"How's Padma doing?" Harry asked. Sleeping, she looked fairly peaceful, but he wasn't quite sure what was wrong with her.

"Oh, she's alright." Parvati shrugged, "she was hit in the chest with a bunch of different curses at once, so there's been some sustained damage, but the healers say she can come home in another few weeks."

"And how are you doing Parvati?" Ginny inquired sympathetically.

"It's been really rough," Parvati looked tired, "in the beginning it was pretty much touch and go, but since she's stabilized, I'm not frightened anymore so much as just plain exhausted from all this. Between running from Padma to Lavender it's been a bit of a handful. Still," she paused and glanced involuntarily at Ginny, "it could have been so much worse."

Ginny's face tightened for a moment, but then smoothed out calmly again so fast that Harry wasn't sure if he'd imagined it or not.

"Harry," Parvati glanced over at him, "how've you been? No one's heard anything about you since the battle."

"Not bad I suppose." Harry said, unsure of how to respond. "I guess it's like how it is for everyone, I'm hanging on."

They chatted about odds and ends with Parvati for another few minutes, before they were interrupted by the arrival of Ernie Macmillan. "Harry! Ginny!" He called out striding down the aisle towards them, "I thought it was you! People had begun whispering that Harry Potter was here."

Smiling broadly he clapped Harry on the back and then shook Ginny's hand before settling into an empty chair.

"You look well Ernie!" Harry said, which was true. Ernie was dressed not in a hospital gown, but in a regular shirt and pants, he'd walked over to them unaided, albeit slowly.

"I'll be leaving here tomorrow," Ernie said happily, "But I'm glad to get to see you before I go Harry. No one was quite sure where you'd gone off to, but I really wanted to commend you on the battle. We all owe you our gratitude." He nodded solemnly at Harry.

"Thanks Ernie." Harry said feeling self-conscious. He wasn't any more of a hero then all the other people who'd fought in the battle. He glanced around at the full ward, wondering how many of the people there were members of the Order or Hogwarts students that he simply didn't know.

"Yes, I think we're all looking forward to being able to move on with our lives," Ernie continued, "I'm very pleased to have a chance to redo my seventh year- NEWT year, after all, isn't anything to be trifled with."

"Yeah, that's right," Parvati said, eyeing Harry with interest, "Will you be coming back to Hogwarts this year?"

Harry's stomach clenched, he'd been trying to avoid thinking about the decision.

"I'm not sure yet," he said evenly, "have you decided Parvati?"

"Well, I wanted to start working. After what we've been through it seems a bit silly to go back to classrooms and books. But Mum and Dad really wanted me and Padma to go back and finish our education properly, so it looks like I'll be going." She sighed. "I do think it's a bit degrading though that we'll be sharing most of our lessons with the students a year younger than us." She gave Ginny a look.

Ginny ignored her and looked at her watch, "Harry, it's almost time to meet Mum, we'd better go get George."

"If you come back to Hogwarts I'd be happy to do some study sessions with you for the NEWTS," Ernie said sincerely to Harry.

"Er, thanks Ernie," Harry said, not quite sure that that would be the prime reason for his return.

They gave their goodbyes and then continued further down the ward in search of George. They found him sitting at Angelina's bedside in a deep discussion with her which broke off suddenly as they approached.

"Hi Angelina," Harry greeted her. He'd always liked the confident, sincere girl who'd played quidditch with him for five years.

"Hi Harry, Hi Ginny," she smiled at them.

"Hello Angelina!" Ginny walked over and gave her a hug before turning to George. "George, it's nearly time to meet Mum, she'll be frantic if we're a minute late."

George looked at Ginny, "I'm not quite finished talking with Angelina, tell Mum that I'll come home on my own a bit later."

"But," Ginny looked like she was about to protest and then thought better of it. "Fine, come home for dinner though!"

George shrugged noncommittally.

Angelina grinned, "Don't worry, I'll have sent him off by then."

Harry and Ginny retreated back down the aisle. Harry glanced over his shoulder and saw George smiling at something Angelina had just said. He looked happier than Harry had seen him in a long time.

They'd just reached the door of the ward when Harry felt someone tugging his sleeve. He looked down and saw a small boy, maybe about six years old with large brown eyes clutching his sleeve.

"Excuse me," the little boy piped up, "are you Harry Potter?"

Harry glanced warily at Ginny, trying to gauge how he should respond to this. She shrugged, looking unsure.

"Yeah, I suppose I am," Harry said after a minute.

The boy smiled, looking pleased, "then my Grandpapa would like very much to see you before you go."

He turned back down the aisle, still tugging at Harry's sleeve. After a moment's deliberation, Harry followed him. After all, what was the worst that could happen? He very sincerely doubted that any death eaters were being treated in this ward, and he had come to cheer people up.

The boy stopped before one of the beds and then drew back the curtains to reveal, to Harry's surprise, Mr. Ollivander, the wandmaker.

Ollivander surveyed him for a moment with his piercing silver eyes before smiling softly, "Harry Potter," he said quietly, "I am glad to meet you again."

The small boy, who Harry presumed to be his grandson ran over to Ollivander and wrapped his arms around his neck, "I found him for you Grandpapa! I did!" he said in his small childish voice looking exceedingly pleased with himself.

"Excellent Thomas!" Ollivander gazed fondly at his grandson for a moment, and then, with apparent effort, lifted him onto the bed beside him.

Ollivander still looked very ill, the past year of torture had taken a great toll on him. His skin was slightly grayish and there was a noticeable tremble in his hands.

"Mr. Ollivander," Harry said, still feeling very surprised at meeting him here so unexpectedly, "it's nice to see you too. How are you recovering?"

"I'm doing well, doing well." Ollivander fell silent, gazing at Harry in the discerning way Harry could so clearly remember from the first time they had met.

Harry shifted, slightly uncomfortably. He had nothing to hide from Ollivander, but it was nonetheless disconcerting to be stared at so candidly.

"Your wand," Ollivander spoke up suddenly, "you decided to keep it then I see?"

"Er, yeah," Harry said, surprised, for it was true that he had chosen to keep his own wand instead of swapping it out for the elder wand. "How'd you know?"

"The signs were there," Ollivander said seriously, "the Elder wand is a force in it's own right. As much as a wizard uses it, it too uses the wizard, leaving a trace in his magic and actions. Of course it's almost imperceptible, unless one knows what to look for. No, I can see that you have retained the phoenix wand you purchased from me- and you must have repaired it using the elder wand, am I right?"

"Yeah," Harry conceded.

"Clever, very clever," Ollivander nodded slowly. "Now Mr. Potter, what I am very curious about is your wand. It has obviously had remarkable implications regarding your destiny, so I wonder, how will it change now that it's twin wand is no more?"

"Wands change?" Harry asked, confused. He knew that they could change ownership, but he'd never really viewed them as something transient in of themselves.

"Of course," Ollivander replied, seriously, "as the main conduits of our magic, they develop as we develop, shift as we shift. A wand is a deep reflection of ourselves."

"Right," Harry said slowly, unsure what to make of this.

"Well," Ollivander said with a note of conclusion in his voice, "I suppose we cannot know until we know. Don't hesitate to contact me Mr. Potter if you have anything more to discuss. Your wand and its story have been the most fascinating and powerful case of magic I have ever encountered."

Harry nodded, "Thanks Mr. Ollivander," he glanced over at Ginny, who was still waiting by the door, she gestured to him and pointed at her watch. "I've really got to go now, but it was...interesting to speak to you."

"Bye Harry!" Thomas piped up from his perch next to his grandfather.

Harry waved, and then walked back to Ginny.

"What was that about?" She asked quizzically as they quickly walked back down the corridor.

"I'll tell you later," Harry said quietly, glancing around at the people walking past. No one had mobbed him yet, but some people were definitely staring at them.

They met Mrs. Weasley in the lobby at ten minutes past one. She was peering around anxiously and glancing at her watch. When she caught sight of him and Ginny she looked immensely relieved.

"There you are, I was starting to get worried!" she said, and then noticed that they were one person short, "wait a minute, where's George?" she asked anxiously.

"He's talking with Angelina Johnson and he said not to wait for him, he'll come home later on his own." Ginny answered.

"Angelina Johnson," Mrs. Weasley said thoughtfully as they walked towards the exit, "wasn't she the girl that Fred went to the Yule ball with?"

"Yes. She was." Ginny said quietly.

Angelina had also been close to Fred, Harry thought. Maybe it would be good for George to have someone outside of his family to share his grief with, to remind him that he wasn't alone.

"Bill?" Mrs. Weasley came to a halt, looking at someone over Harry's shoulder.

Harry turned. Sure enough, there was Bill Weasley, hurrying through the lobby towards the lifts. He stopped when he heard his mother's voice.

"Mum." He said, sounding extremely surprised, "Harry, Ginny. What are you doing here?"

"We've just been to visit some friends," Mrs. Weasley replied, "what are you doing here? Is everything alright?" Harry thought he could detect a distinct note of suspicion in her voice, mingled with worry.

Bill apparently also heard it because he laughed and said, "Don't worry Mum, I'm fine, I'm just here to...visit a business contact for Gringotts."

"Who?" Mrs. Weasley asked, still eyeing her son sharply, "are you sure you're all right? You looked a bit peaky at Ron's party last night, and Fleur wasn't acting quite herself either."

Bill grinned, "I'm visiting Griphook- you remember that Goblin who ended up at our house a month ago? He's here recovering a bit more. He's heading up a movement for goblin rights, so I'm here to discuss with him about wizard-goblin liaisons for Gringotts."

"Well...alright," Mrs. Weasley said, mollified.

Harry was less sure. Something about Bill's story had not sounded quite right to him. The last time Harry had seen Griphook, he had appeared to be in perfect health, as he'd grabbed the sword of Gryffindor and and abandoned him, Ron and Hermione in a vault under Gringotts.

"Griphook's here?" he asked Bill.

"Yes, yes," Bill glanced down at his watch, "Sorry, I really have to run, or else I'll be late!" Quickly kissing his mother on the cheek, he strode off towards the lifts.

Harry wasn't quite sure whether to believe him or not, but then again, why would Bill lie? It was also entirely possible the Griphook had fought in the battle of Hogwarts and been injured then.

They exited the hospital into the crowded street, the weak sunlight streaming down on them.

"Come along," Mrs. Weasley ushered them down the sidewalk, "to the alleyway and then we can apparate home."

Ginny had stopped walking though. She was looking around at the bustling street with an almost obstinate look on her face.

"I don't want to go home right now Mum," she said suddenly.

"Excuse me?" Mrs. Weasley looked somewhere between affronted and worried, "are you feeling alright Ginny?"

"I'm sorry," Ginny pressed a hand to her forehead, shielding her eyes for a moment while she took a deep breath, "I wasn't trying to be rude Mum...I...just...I can't stand sitting around at home, just thinking and thinking. I need to get out a bit more. We're in the middle of London right now, there are a hundred things to see- why don't we see them?"

Mrs. Weasley scrutinized her daughter intensely for a moment, and then appeared to come to a decision. "I'm going to visit Andromeda now, she's expecting me, but you and Harry can stay in London if you want. Be home in time for dinner though. And be safe!" she paused for a moment, " I trust you both."

"Thanks Mum," Ginny said quietly. Harry was surprised by her outburst, but he understood where it was coming from. The greatest prison could be oneself, and he supposed that the best way to be released was by being in the world a little.

"Harry." Mrs. Weasley rounded on him, "you do feel comfortable doing side-along apparition with Ginny, don't you?"

"Yeah, it should be fine," Harry said, trying to look responsible.

Ginny rolled her eyes, "Mum, Harry did side-along for Dumbledore once, didn't you Harry?"

"Yeah, I guess that's true," Harry said.

"Fine," Mrs. Weasley seemed torn between anxiety and resignation, "Enjoy yourselves then."

She hugged Ginny and then Harry in turn before walking away, giving them one last glance over her shoulder.

"So, where d'you want to go then?" Harry said, turning to Ginny. His heartbeat had quickened slightly, this was only the second time they'd really gotten a chance to spend some time together, away from the eyes of her parents and brothers.

"Oh, I don't know," Ginny sounded sad, "let's just walk around. Talk. I feel like I've barely seen you even though we've been living in the same house."

They began walking down the busy street together. Ginny reached over and took Harry's hand.

"We could finally go on a proper date Ginny," Harry said hesitantly as they turned the corner, walking past rows of shops and trendy restaurants. "I also want to talk. I want to hear how you are."

Ginny came to a halt, looking thoughtful, "I think Charlie told me there's a wizard-owned cafe two streets over."

"You don't want a muggle one?" Harry asked, "it's bound to be a bit more low profile for us."

Ginny wrinkled her nose, "I don't know...I've never been to a muggle cafe before- is that strange of me?"

"I guess not," Harry said, surprised, "I mean, I suppose you never had a reason. But," he was quick to reassure her, "they're the same as wizarding ones, except they don't sell butterbeer. And they use different money. And no one ever challenges anyone else to a duel if they've had too much to drink."

"But exactly the same, are they?" Ginny said drily.

"Fine, I concede," Harry laughed, "you're right, they're nothing alike."

Ginny smiled. "C'mon then," she said, leading him down the street.

They made their way to a narrow slightly crooked street with several oddly painted shops on it. Ginny came to a halt in front of a lime green awning, "This is it," she said gesturing to the sign which bore the name "The Speckled Toad" and had a painting of a squat, spotted toad on it.

Harry peered through the grimy window and saw only one other wizard inside, sitting at the counter reading the Daily Prophet.

"Don't worry Harry," Ginny said, squeezing his hand, "no one's going to bother you, it was fine at St. Mungos just now.

"Yeah, you're probably right," Harry said reluctantly. He nonetheless took out his cap from his pocket, pulling it low over his eyes.

"At least you look good in hats," Ginny said, leaning over and kissing him softly on the cheek.

"Thanks," Harry said, grinning at her as he pushed open the door, which tinkled softly. The cafe was somewhat eclectic, and vaguely reminded Harry of Professor Trelawney's divination classroom with it's odd mixture of furniture. None of the tables or chairs seemed to match. The proprietor seemed to have gone out of his way for variety over conformity in styling his restaurant. There were plush armchairs, intricately carved wooden seats, plain wooden stools, a rocking chair, end even a swing dangling from the ceiling.

He and Ginny sat down at a garishly painted orange table tucked away in the corner of the room. Harry settled himself on a bean bag chair, and Ginny on a knobbly little stool covered on checkered cloth.

"This is a bit...odd," Harry said, looking around.

Ginny shrugged, "What wizarding establishment isn't?"

The wizard standing behind the counter, a short, balding man in what appeared to be tie-dyed robes came over to take their orders.

"So, what can I get for the two of you," he said with a friendly smile.

"Er, I'll just take a butterbeer," Harry said, glancing over the menu. He wasn't quite sure what a "toad sandwich special" was, but in the off chance that it really involved toads, he decided that he was better safe than sorry.

"The same for me," Ginny said, putting down her menu.

"Jolly good," the wizard said, still smiling, but his eyes had come to rest on Harry. Harry pulled the cap down slightly lower over his face. After another moment of staring, the wizard trotted off, returning a minute later with their butterbeers. Depositing them on their table with a clank, he retreated again to the counter and disappeared through a door. Harry fervently hoped he hadn't been recognized.

He opened his butterbeer and took a long swig. The comforting, sweet taste reminded him of weekends in Hogsmeade.

"So Ginny," he said, setting his bottle back on the table, "how've you been?"

Ginny shrugged, not quite meeting Harry's eyes. "Oh, you know. Trying to keep busy, help Mum out. But home's starting to feel a little bit...well...constricting I suppose."

"Yeah, I think I get it." Harry said quietly, "It's...hard to be in a place where you've been happy-really happy...because you know it's never going to be quite the same again."

"Something like that," Ginny agreed, looking up, her green eyes meeting Harry's.

"How've you been?" she said, gazing intently at him.

"I'm okay." Harry said, "It's tough...but I guess I'm just glad that it's over." He paused for a moment, "I still don't know what I'm doing next year, which seems like a bit of a silly thing to be worrying about considering the other things we've been through."

"It's a big decision," Ginny said quietly, "You know I'd be happy if we got another year together, Harry. But what will ultimately be best for us is if you make the choice that's best for you."

Harry mulled this over for a minute. "Thanks," he said finally, reaching under the table and taking her hand.

Ginny spoke up softly, "I just miss him." she was silent for a moment before continuing, "I mean, you get it. It's hard, there's no easy answers. Sometimes I'm fine and sometimes...sometimes I feel like things won't ever be okay again."

Harry held her hand a little tighter. There didn't seem to be much to say.

"I know I seem strong all the time, I haven't really broken down. Everyone always thinks that I'm confident, I'm funny, I'm doing just fine…." her voice shook slightly, "sometimes I just feel like that shy, scared little girl that I used to be."

Harry's heart contracted slightly with the sudden pain of thinking about people he'd loved, people they'd loved, who simply were gone.

"It isn't the dead who suffer," he said softly, "it's the living. Having to go on without them."

Ginny nodded and swallowed hard. She appeared to be trying not to cry.

At that moment, the door to the cafe burst open and several excited looking wizards carrying microphones and cameras rushed in, scanning the shop. In a moment, they noticed Harry and had surrounded the table.

"Harry, Harry Potter," a wizard in a pinstriped cape brusquely shoved a microphone in his face, "Vincent Brimble of the Daily Prophet here, I'd like to get a statement from you about your defeat of You Know Who last month and anything you'd like to say to the wizarding community at large."

"No, Harry, over here," a stout witch with very poofy blond hair excitedly elbowed the wizard out of the way, "Valerie Pye of Witch Weekly, our readers are very interested in finding out more about your love life. Is this your girlfriend here?" she gestured excitedly to Ginny whose expression seemed to have frozen. Several flashbulbs from cameras went off.

Harry rose to his feet, roughly pulling Ginny behind him to shield her from view. 'No comment," he said angrily, pushing his way through the crowd of reporters. He pulled Ginny along towards the door, keeping her blocked from sight.

"But Harry-" "We just want to know-" "One quick quote-" like a flock of loudly twittering birds the reporters surged after them,

They were on the street, the rain that had been threatening them the entire morning had finally started. Harry, still holding Ginny's hand broke into a run, "C'mon" he said to her urgently as the rain splashed down on them, "let's get to an alleyway and we can apparate out of here,"

She nodded, running alongside him.

They turned into a rundown little alley at the end of the street.

"Here, take my arm," Harry said, slightly out of breath, "Ready?"

He turned on his heel and experienced the familiar sensation of being squeezed through a narrow rubber tube. A moment later, he and Ginny were outside the burrow. The rain here was softer, more like a drizzle.

"Are you okay?" he turned to Ginny, worried, as he pushed his wet hair out of his eyes, specks of water dotting the lenses of his glasses. Being ambushed by reporters was never pleasant, he at least was somewhat used to it.

"Fine. I'm fine," Ginny said combing her fingers through her hair, which was dripping and slightly windblown from their sudden sprint. "They're horrid. Why can't they just give us a minute of peace and quiet?"

Harry shrugged. "I'm sorry Ginny," he said after a moment.

She rolled her eyes, "Don't be all noble and heroic Harry, you didn't force them to come bother us. They're the ones to blame. But there is one thing I didn't get a chance to do yet though during our date," she said, looking up at him, her eyelashes dark and wet from the rain. She stepped forward, gently taking his face in her hands, and then kissed him.

The kiss was, rather unfortunately, interrupted by the front door banging open and Ron stepping out.

Harry quickly jumped away from Ginny trying to appear casual. Ginny turned to glare at Ron, "is there something you wanted?" she said cooly.

"Yeah," Ron said, the tips of his ears red, "Mum wanted me to check who'd just apparated into the garden, she didn't think you two would be home for a while."

"We got mobbed by some reporters," Harry said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Your Mum's never going to let me hear the end of this. She didn't exactly think it was a good idea to be wandering around as myself." His frustration at the abrupt end to their date had been quieted when Ginny kissed him, but he could feel it starting to creep back.

"Tough luck mate," Ron said sympathetically, ignoring Ginny who was still glaring at him. "Fine then, I suppose I'm going back inside." Giving the two of them one last look he went back in, shutting the door.

The drizzle slowly tapered off, leaving them standing outside in a world fresh from the rain. After a moment of silence, Ginny started to giggle.

"What's so funny?" Harry turned to her, surprised. He didn't think anything in their day so far had been particularly humorous.

"I don't know," she smiled, "I suppose it's that a month ago you were running away from death eaters and Voldemort. Now you're running away from reporters and my older brother, and... I just can't help thinking that you'd rather deal with the first option."

Harry laughed, "At least Voldemort never particularly cared about my love life."

Smiling at each other, they walked slowly towards the back garden. There could still be moments of sunshine on a rainy day.

* * *

 **Authors note: Hi everyone! Thank you for reading my story. Biggest kudos go to people who have left reviews- reviews are the inspiration that keep me writing! I am also looking for constructive feedback about this story/my writing in general, so if you have anything to say, please feel free to PM me. I tried to advance the plot in this chapter, so look out for some of these plot threads to be picked up again in future chapters. Again, comments, (friendly) criticisms, and suggestions are all welcome. This chapter was a long one and it was slightly murderous to try to edit it into something sensible- so let me know how you think it turned out. I've had fun writing this story so far, and I hope you've had fun reading it. Happy 20 years of Harry Potter! Thank you J.K. Rowling for giving us such a wonderful world to inhabit through words.  
**


	10. News of Various Sorts

Several days had passed uneventfully at the Burrow. Harry had finished reading the stack of Marvin Miggs comics in the corner of Ron's room, and moved on halfheartedly to the Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook that Ron had been studying, though he was finding it rather dull as he knew almost all the spells in it already. He had gone on several long walks with Ginny which had left him feeling decidedly more happy than he'd felt in a long time, and he had spent another afternoon watching Teddy, which had added to this pleasant feeling of contentment.

Ron had been into London yesterday afternoon to spend some time with Hermione, and he too had come back full of good humor and laughter. The anxious crease that Harry had been beginning to think was permanently etched into Ron's forehead had even started to fade.

The biggest change of all around the Burrow though, was George. He had been to visit St. Mungo's every day since they had first gone, and Harry had a fairly well founded suspicion that this was mostly for the sake of Angelina Johnson. George was now regularly seen out of his room, he'd begun talking to them again in full sentences, and, most reassuringly, he'd started making small jokes.

George had had moments away from his grief before, but what was different about this was that it seemed permanent. After a long month and a half of silence, George was beginning to come back to life.

The only blight on Harry's horizon besides the faint sense of boredom he was beginning to feel from spending so much time at the Burrow, was the fact that next week Ron would be starting work at the ministry, and Harry still didn't have the faintest idea what he would be doing next year. It seemed like everyone else had come to their decision with an ease and sense of surety that he envied. Whatever he chose, he doubted if it would come without large amounts of second guessing and regret.

He came down to breakfast that morning mentally weighing pros and cons, trying to somehow reason his way out of what was largely going to be an emotional decision. Ron was sitting at the kitchen table chuckling over a slightly crumpled newspaper. This was odd since Ron rarely read the newspaper and even more rarely found it to be funny.

"What'r you reading?" Harry inquired, pouring himself a glass of pumpkin juice.

"It's the article about you mate," Ron said, each word punctuated with a laugh as he set the newspaper down, "well...it's not really that funny...but...it is a bit funny...especially the Stan Shunpike bit...I don't know what goes through that bloke's mind."

Harry grimaced. He knew that despite his best efforts, he had still ended up on the front page of the newspaper the day after the reporters had ambushed him and Ginny. He'd pointedly avoided glancing at it though, as he was sure he would heartily dislike whatever had been written. He paused for a minute, and then slightly overcome with curiosity he picked up the several-day-old newspaper.

The headline proclaimed: THE BOY WHO LIVED- SIGHTED AT LAST, and a large photograph next to it showed him holding up his hand to block his face and continually scowling at the camera with the top of Ginny's head poking out from behind his shoulder.

Harry started skimmed the first page of the article which began fairly factually: _"Harry Potter, who faced off in battle against Lord Voldemort last month has been sighted at last. He was found in The Speckled Toad, a wizarding cafe in downtown London near St. Mungo's hospital of magical maladies and injuries. Mr. Potter was seen at the cafe with an unnamed girl. He refused to comment to the press about his current activities and whereabouts since the Battle of Hogwarts."_

The article then veered sharply away from the truth and proceeded to spend five pages speculating wildly about his life.

 _"Sources close to this young and tormented wizard who wish to remain anonymous have revealed that he wiles away most his time in various wizarding bars, drinking large quantities of firewhiskey to numb the emotional turmoil and guilt brought on by the battle. Unconfirmed sightings have placed Mr. Potter at the Three Broomsticks, the Hog's Head, and the Leaky Cauldron pub all within the last week."_

 _"Stan Shunpike, 31, former conductor of the Knight Bus and close acquaintance of Mr. Potter spoke out on Harry's current state from his Clapham home, "Oh yeah, 'Arry's probably pretty cut up about what happened," Mr. Shunpike stated, "I fink 'e's even turned to some more weird stuff to 'elp 'im cope if I 'eard right." When asked to elaborate on this cryptic statement, Mr. Shunpike would only say that he'd heard Mr. Potter was involved in some dubious affairs involving "Pygmy Puffs"._

 _"Rita Skeeter, former reporter for the Daily Prophet who has interviewed Mr. Potter on numerous occasions and is quite intimate with him also commented on Harry's current emotional wellbeing. "Oh, well I really shouldn't say anything, but knowing Harry as well as I do, I feel obligated to let people know how he's doing. Yes, he's certainly in a dark place right now, it's no surprise that he's been laying low for a while. One thing that really became quite clear from the series of interviews that I did with him throughout the Triwizard Tournament is that he has a very dark and brooding nature that can easily be stirred to passion or violence. I have it on very good authority that the duel that broke out in Diagon Alley last week and took three aurors to get it under control was, in fact, started by Harry." Ms. Skeeter confided, "Yes, the reason it hasn't been all over the papers is that the ministry wanted to keep it hush hush. Didn't want their golden boy's reputation to be tarnished so fast, but I firmly believe the public deserves to know the truth." Ms. Skeeter concluded with a charming smile."_

After finishing the first page of this, Harry folded the newspaper up in disgust ready to throw it into the rubbish bin, when a sentence at the end of the article caught his eye.

 _"The Boy Who Lived has been seen again at last, but we may well wonder why he has waited this long to return to a world that has been in dire need of him for the past month and a half. Mr. Potter was sighted at St. Mungos Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries earlier that afternoon, purportedly visiting several individuals wounded in the battle of Hogwarts, but this single action is not enough."_

 _"It still remains to be seen why he has ignored repeated requests from the Ministry of Magic to testify at upcoming Death Eater trials which will be held later this month. An insider at the ministry who wished to remain nameless informed us that: "Harry Potter will certainly be a key witness at these proceedings. That is, if he bothers to turn up. He hasn't answered a single one of the owls we've sent him- the letters all came back unopened. But his testimony is crucial, particularly as he is the only known witness for one of the Death Eaters we wish to prosecute. Here's hoping that finally seeing him in public again means he's willing to return to the spotlight in order to bring some criminals to justice."_

The article continued on for a bit longer, but Harry folded it shut again, this time musingly. Testifying at Death Eater trials? He hadn't heard a word about this. He supposed that he hadn't gotten any of the owls from the ministry because of the protective charms put up around the burrow, but that didn't explain why Mr. Weasley or even Percy had failed to mention this topic to him. With their involvement in the ministry they'd surely heard something about this by now.

Did he even want to testify? His first instinct was a vehement "no". As this most recent run in with the press had reaffirmed, he was by no means interested in returning to the harsh glare of the spotlight.

But, he read the line over again: "His testimony is crucial, particularly as he is the only known witness for one of the Death Eaters we wish to prosecute. " He pondered this for a moment. How could he be the only witness? Hadn't all the Death Eaters been seen fighting for Voldemort in the last battle? He needed to discuss it with Mr. Weasley. Sighing, he finally and satisfyingly tossed the paper into the rubbish bin.

"So, did you like Shunpike's quote?" Ron said with a grin, he seemed to have ignored the more serious parts of the article, focusing solely on the humorous bits. "I'd better tell Ginny to keep her pygmy puff, away from you! There's no telling what you might do to poor Arnold." He said, mock-seriously.

George strode into the kitchen. "What's this about pygmy puffs?" he asked with interest, sitting down at the table and helping himself to a piece of toast. Seeing George acting normally again was extremely pleasant.

"Harry's been accused of involvement in 'dubious affairs involving pygmy puffs," Ron answered gleefully.

George raised an eyebrow, "Now Harry," he said solemnly, "everybody loves a hero, but nobody loves one who can't be trusted around pygmy puffs."

Harry rolled his eyes as Ron guffawed.

Ginny entered through the swinging door of the kitchen a moment later, "Who's a pygmy puff hero?" she inquired.

"No one," Harry said, slightly annoyed, as he felt the joke was starting to wear a bit thin.

Ron happily fished the newspaper out of the wastebin and presented it to her.

Her eyebrows furrowed as she scanned it. "Yes, yes Ron...the pygmy puff thing is really inspired, but what's this bit at the end about testifying at Death Eater trials?"

She, Ron, and George all swiveled to look inquiringly at Harry.

Harry shrugged, "Dunno," he said honestly, "it's the first I've heard about it as well. I think I'm gonna ask your Dad about it when he gets home."

"Yeah," George said slowly, "I wonder why he didn't mention it to you before."

They all fell silent as they continued to eat breakfast. The mention of Death Eaters had wiped away some of their previous good humor.

George finished eating and got up, "Well I'm off to St. Mungo's." he said, waving to them.

"Give Angelina our regards." Ginny said with an air of innocence.

"I will," George replied unblushingly, stepping out the door.

It closed behind him with a slam.

"So, what are you two up to today?" Ginny said, turning to him and Ron.

"I don't know," Harry said with a shrug, "I haven't quite planned that far ahead yet."

"Me neither," Ron said, stifling half a yawn, "But I figure I'd better get as much sleep as I can before I go to work and I have to start waking up at the crack of dawn again."

A minute later, a large tawny owl flew in through the window, dropping a letter onto the table between Harry and Ron.

Ron reached over and picked it up, "It's from Hermione," he said, grinning happily. He ripped it open and quickly read it over before passing it to Harry.

"She wants to know if we can come for dinner tonight," he said, though he looked a bit pale.

Harry read through her note.

 _Dear Ron and Harry,_

 _Remember how I said I wanted you two to come over for dinner sometime this week? Well, according to Mum and Dad, tonight's a good night. I really hope you can both make it, please send an owl back as soon as possible._

 _A few words of caution:_

 _*both of you: I've been telling my parents a bit more about what exactly I was doing for the past year, and I finally had to tell them that I was travelling around England with you two. Dad's not very pleased with this (although I hadn't the heart to tell him that we were sharing a tent also). He and Mum have agreed not to bring it up tonight as they understand we were doing it to accomplish something important. But please don't either of you mention it, as the topic of last year is a very sensitive one (for many reasons)._

 _* Ron: I also finally told my parents that we've been dating (this added considerably to Dad's annoyance that we were travelling together, although I reassured him that our relationship only started this month). Be prepared for...well...I'm not exactly sure what. I've never brought home a boyfriend before. Just please be nice and don't work yourself up into a nervous fit over this._

 _Love,_

 _Hermione_

Harry glanced over at Ron. He had paled considerably more so and looked exactly as though he was working himself up into a nervous fit.

"Ron," he said soothingly, "don't worry, we met them for tea. They were nice. And didn't you tell Hermione that you wanted to come over to her house for dinner?"

"Yeah," Ron said despairingly, "but that was before they knew that we'd been living with Hermione for the past year dragging her around England towards various dangerous confrontations involving psychopaths and dragons."

He slumped back in his chair looking he defeated, "Oh bloody hell," he groaned, "what if she's told them...well, how I acted last year... They're going to hate me. They're never going to understand how she's dating me. I barely even understand how she's dating me."

Ginny had, by this point, reached across the table and taken the letter, reading it through.

"Oh buck up Ron," she said sternly, "it's really not as awful as all that. I'm sure Hermione didn't tell them anything bad about you. She wants them to like you too!"

"Yeah, sorry you're not invited Gin," Harry said turning to her, slightly concerned. He was never quite sure how to traverse this path. Ginny was good friends with Hermione, but her friendship had always remained slightly separate from their trio. Now that they were dating again he was unsure exactly how all their friendships and relationships fit together.

"It's fine," she said, waving away his concern, "I was thinking about going over to Luna's later for tea anyways. Apparently she wants some help harvesting the patch of burbling bilchwood that's been growing in their garden," she said with a slight smile.

"I want to go to Luna's," Ron spoke up, "can we tell Hermione we can't come tonight?" he said hopefully to Harry. It was as though a drowning man was clutching at a lifeline.

"You're going Ron and that's final," Ginny snapped, reminding Harry irresistibly of her mother. "If you don't, I'll tell her Hermione that..." she lowered her voice and whispered something in Ron's ear. He looked deeply shocked, "You wouldn't!" he said, deeply horrified.

"Oh, I would," Ginny nodded seriously.

"Tell her what?" Harry asked with interest.

"Never you mind!" Ron said fiercely.

"I'll tell you later," Ginny mouthed silently to him over Ron's shoulder.

Ron grumbled something unintelligible and shot a glare at Ginny. He took out a piece of parchment and scribbled a quick note back to Hermione. Holding it up for inspection to Harry and Ginny so they could see that he was, in fact, accepting the invitation, he sealed it with a tap of his wand and then beckoned over the tawny owl, who had been flying in circles around the kitchen ceiling.

He tied the scroll to the owl's leg, and after hooting appreciatively, the owl took off again with a great flap of its wings, soaring back out the window.

"Okay, test me again,"

Ron, Harry and Ginny were sitting outside in the garden, the soft grass tickling their legs as a cool breeze wafted through, ruffling their hair. Harry and Ginny each had a large stack of flashcards on their laps.

Ginny shot Harry a look, which Harry interpreted to mean something like: _this is the most ridiculous exercise in the history of the world and Ron's just lucky we're here to humor him._

Sighing, she picked up a card from her lap and read it out loud, lowering her voice slightly in what was apparently meant to be a (poor) imitation of Hermione's father, "So Ronald," she said gruffly, "Hermione tells us you always copied her homework when you were in school- can you please explain why you were unable to do the work yourself? Were you simply lacking in morals? Or was it a matter of unintelligen- Look Ron," she cut herself off sharply, speaking again in her normal voice and sounding thoroughly exasperated, "This is ridiculous. I really don't think her parents are going to ask you stuff like this. They may be trying to protect their daughter, but they're not monsters." She tossed her stack of cards on to the grass.

"C'mon Ginny," Ron said, a note of desperation creeping into his voice, "test me. Please. I need to be prepared. These could be my future in-l…...well, these are Hermione's parents. This is important. Ask me that one again about why Hermione never mentioned me in any of her letters from halfway through sixth year, I completely bungled the answer the first time around….I need to sound apologetic about it without ever actually letting on that I...well...muffed things up that year." He turned pleadingly to Harry. "Please mate, just one more."

Harry sighed. Call him an enabler, call him a sucker, call him a best friend. He picked up the card and began to read:

"So, Ronald, Hermione's always mentioned you quite often in the letters she's written to us from school. But I noticed that she stopped writing about you halfway through your sixth year. Would you care to explain?" He raised an eyebrow at Ron in what he hoped was a concerned and fatherly manner.

"Well sir," Ron looked exceptionally nervous. "I...you see...erm…"

"I was young and foolish," Harry prompted him, reading off the back of the card.

"Right, right," Ron tried to pull himself together, "I was young and foolish, and I unfortunately got into a disagreement with your daughter that year. I have matured since then and would never act in such a callous manner again, but I still deeply regret that such an egregious error on my part could have ever occurred." He said this all rather quickly and stiffly, as though rattling off lines for a play.

"Well, you got the words right at least," Harry said encouragingly, "Now try not to sound so much like a robot."

"What's a robot?" Ginny asked with interest.

"It's like a...mechanical man I suppose." Harry said. He had momentarily forgotten who he was talking to.

"I'm doomed," Ron moaned, throwing himself facedown onto the grass.

"Ginny's right," Harry said bracingly, "they're never going to ask you stuff like this. Maybe it'll be a couple of questions about your family, or what you're doing this summer, but nothing like…" he flipped over the next card on his lap, "Hermione's last boyfriend was a world-famous quidditch player. Why aren't you world-famous at anything? - honestly Ron, Ginny's right. This is ridiculous." Harry too tossed his stack of flashcards onto the ground. "But I'll be sure to tell Hermione about this- I think this is harder than you ever studied for any of our O.W.L.s. She'll be pleased to know you've finally become studious in order to impress her."

"Urghrg" Ron groaned into the grass.

"That's it Ron," Ginny got to her feet, "You need something to distract you. I'm going to ask Luna if she can come over here."

"Really?" Ron rolled over onto his back, looking up at her with interest, "I haven't seen her since the battle." He paused contemplatively for a moment, "Ask her if she can bring me over a blibbering humdinger. Tell her we're running low." He chuckled to himself.

"I will," Ginny said, rolling her eyes as she walked back into the house.

"Ah Luna," Ron sounded remarkably cheered, "I do like that girl."

"Yeah, I hope she's doing okay," Harry said thoughtfully. He hadn't seen Luna since the battle either.

"But Harry," Ron sounded serious and anxious once more, "I dunno….do you really think I'll be okay tonight? I don't know why I didn't get more nervous about tea...I mean, this is Hermione's parents we're talking about. I...I need them to like me."

"I think they will," Harry said seriously, "Just be polite and respectful. Try not to talk too much about last year. Or the year before that come to think of it. And if it all turns out like the ending of a game of exploding snap, then…" He smiled at Ron, "then at least you still got Hermione to like you. She's the only person who you really need to win over. And it seems like you already did."

Ron twisted a piece of grass around in his fingers for a moment, "Thanks Harry." he said finally.

In the distance they could hear the sounds of two girls talking. The voices were moving closer.

"I think it's Ginny and Luna," Harry said peering with interest over at the path leading into the garden. Sure enough a moment later the two girls appeared around the bend.

"Hello Harry. Hello Ron." Luna waved at them dreamily as she floated into the garden. "It's good to see both of you." She said, as she and Ginny settling themselves onto the grass next to them.

"Hi Luna!" Ron sat up smiling, "How are things going for you?"

"Oh, I'm alright," she said. Her large blue eyes steadily fixed on Ron for a moment before she turned to look at Harry. "Yes, it's been a hard month." she continued "I'm very happy all those terrible things are over, but victory came at a cost." Her blue eyes were wide as she said very simply, "But it's over now."

"Er...yeah," Ron said, the smile sliding off his face.

Harry too felt somber. He suspected that Ron had been hoping Luna would come over and spout some charmingly absurd stories about fictitious magical creatures. Not talk about the price they had had to pay for Voldemort's defeat.

The four of them sat silently in the garden for a minute.

Luna spoke up again in a more cheerful tone of voice, "I've been helping Dad restart the Quibbler though, and the latest issue's just come out."

"Do you have a copy with you?" Harry asked with interest. The Quibbler was well known for it's outlandish and bizarre collection of articles each month, although Harry personally had a soft spot for it ever since it had published an interview with him in his fifth year that had finally gotten the truth out to the world about Voldemort's return.

"Yes," she said happily, pulling several copies out a large, lumpy green bag. "I brought a copy for each of you because I thought you might be interested."

She passed each of them a thick magazine.

Harry read the headline emblazoned in bright orange on the front cover: Voldemort Defeated! Read inside for exclusive details and eyewitness accounts of the Battle of Hogwarts

 _EXCLUSIVE: Harry Potter: the savior of more than just wizard-kind? Learn about his ties with the little-known elvish welfare society S.P.E.W._

 _Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger: 17 facts about the duo that have supported Harry Potter for years_

 _Light magic for dark times: how to grow your own singing shrivelfig_

"Wow, we're featured pretty heavily in this issue," Ron said. He had flipped open to the inside and was skimming the article about him and Hermione. "Blimey. Did you know Hermione and I sang backup for you when you wanted to start your own wizarding band- Harry and the Potters?" Ron sounded as though he was trying very hard to stifle a laugh.

"Yeah," Ginny was looking at the same article, "and apparently the new Celestina Warbeck song 'Sparks Flying Between our Wands' was actually written about the long-standing love triangle going on between the three of you. It looks like you've challenged Ron to a duel over Hermione's hand twice before." Fortunately, she sounded amused rather than miffed about this.

"Yes, yes," Luna said dreamily, "Daddy wanted my opinion on the articles he'd written about the three of you, but I told him that as your friend it wouldn't be right for me to be involved in them one way or another." She smiled in a far-off sort of way at Ron, "I think he did a very good job on his own though."

"Oh, that reminds me," she looked at Harry and Ron, a more serious expression coming into her eyes, "When I told my father I was coming over here, he wanted me to give a message to the two of you. He wanted me to tell you that he's sorry. He didn't say for what.

I don't think a wrackspurt had got him, but if you don't know what he's talking about then maybe it had." She shrugged, her large eyes giving her a look of perpetual surprise.

Harry and Ron exchanged a glance. They knew perfectly well why Xenophilious Lovegood was apologising. When then had gone to visit him last year when they were on the run he had called the Death Eaters on them in an effort to secure the release of Luna.

They couldn't tell this to Luna though. There was no point in doing anything that might damage her perception of her father. He had acted out of love for her.

Harry silently hoped Ron also understood that they should remain silent. Ron met his eyes and nodded slightly in agreement, relieving Harry of the fear that he might speak.

Ginny shot them a curious look. Even she didn't know all of what had happened last year. It was a long, winding and twisted story that Harry could barely keep straight for himself.

"Er...thanks for telling us Luna," Harry said finally, "Tell him that there's nothing to be sorry for."

"Ah, so it was wrackspurts then?" She said excitedly. "I'll tell him."

"So, what have you been up to for the past month?" Ginny asked Luna, the topic finally switching onwards.

"Well, I've been helping Daddy repair our house," she said, "It seems to have gotten quite damaged this past year when the Death Eaters came to make Daddy stop publishing the Quibbler. I've been a bit lonely, but Neville came by for tea a few times." she gazed at the sky, "he was very brave this past year you know. He's very excited to be an auror but I think he'll do better when he goes back to what he's really passionate about."

"Neville's going to be an auror?" Harry asked with interest.

"Yes," she said dreamily, "I think he'll be starting at the ministry in about two weeks."

"Hey, me too!" Ron said excitedly, "It'll be great having someone else I know around!"

"So what's Neville really passionate about Luna?" Ginny asked curiously from her perch in the grass next to Harry.

"Herbology," Luna said staring vaguely off into the distance as though she was only half paying attention to the conversation.

"Yeah but c'mon," Ron interjected, "being an auror is cool. You get to hunt down Death Eaters. Fight evil. One time I was in the Three Broomsticks and Madame Rosmerta gave a free firewhisky to an auror that was there to thank him for his service! Madame Rosmerta! D'you really think Neville's going to want to go back to playing with plants after getting a taste of that?"

Luna focused her large eyes on Ron, "I think it's more important to do something you love then to do something that other people love." she said seriously.

After a moment she turned to Ginny, "I've been wondering how things are going with you and Harry." she said dreamily. "Have the two of you started dating again? I had a dream last week that you had."

Harry choked and started coughing. Ron turned red. Ginny merely giggled though.

"Yes, sorry to bring it up in front of you," Luna said turning to Harry, a slight furrow between her eyebrows, "But you and Ronald don't seem to be going anywhere and I don't know when I'll get a chance to talk to Ginny again."

"Don't worry Luna," Ginny said smiling, "Harry and I have started seeing each other again. But I think Harry and my brother would prefer that we talk about this out of their earshot. C'mon," she said, getting to her feet, "I'll come back with you to your house and help you pick that burbling bilchwood." She winked at Harry over her shoulder.

He felt very hot around the collar.

"How lovely. Thank you Ginny," Luna said, standing up. "Well, goodbye then," She said to Harry and Ron, smiling dreamily, "Tell Hermione that I say hello."

"Did Ginny tell you we're seeing her tonight?" Ron said, his face darkening again.

"No, no," Luna shook her slightly, "I found this marvelous note card in the grass while we were talking. It seemed to be some sort of conversation between you and Hermione's parents. Although," she looked down with a slight air of concern at the card she was holding, "I should hope they're not really this awful. If they are, you should try bringing some powdered dragon lily and blowing it on them. It does wonders for promoting a peaceful atmosphere. That's how the goblin peace agreements were signed in 1897." She floated after Ginny towards the house.

Ron sank back into the grass with I groan. "I'm doomed." He said, burying his face in his hands. Apparently, his respite from nerves had been brief.

 _A/N: Thank you to all those who have left reviews and have liked my story. Your support means a lot to me! As always, please let me know what you think about this chapter and the story in general- I am always looking for feedback!  
_


	11. Dinner and Discoveries

The sun was softly setting behind the rooftops of the surrounding houses as Harry and Ron walked down the quiet London street.

Ron had gone entirely silent which was always an ominous sign.

Mr. Weasley and Percy had come home from work an hour before Harry and Ron were set to leave. Harry had wanted to ask Mr. Weasley about the the Daily Prophet article and it's mention of upcoming Death Eater trials, but upon hearing that they were going to the Granger's for dinner that night, Mr. Weasley had promptly launched into a lengthy reminiscence about the first time he had met Mrs. Weasley's parents.

It was a long and complex story that seemed to involve several chickens and a bewitched goat.

"And then," Mr. Weasley concluded with a chuckle, "as the goat ran off into the night with one of my shoes and I looked around at the smashed china from dinner, I was pretty nearly convinced that that was the last time I would be seeing Molly." He smiled as Harry and Percy roared with laughter.

"But," he added hastily, seeing the nasty shade of green that Ron had turned, "it all turned out perfectly fine as you can see. Your grandparents even gave us their blessing before we got married -although that was only after I'd bought them a new set of dinner dishes mind you."

"Oh don't listen to your father," Mrs. Weasley had come into the kitchen at that point, with freshly ironed shirts for Harry and Ron.

"It wasn't nearly as bad as that." She said, conjuring a wet washcloth out of thin air and begging to scrub Ron's face with it. "My parents thought you were perfectly wonderful the minute they laid eyes on you Arthur." she smiled fondly at her husband.

She put the washcloth down on the table and turned sternly to Ron, "Just be respectful and steer clear of magic. You don't want to make them nervous."

"Yes, Mum," Ron said dully, wiping his face off on his sleeve.

Neither of his parents attempts appeared to have helped Ron much, and as they walked down Hermione's street, Harry was beginning to wonder whether it wasn't too late to feign illness and try again a different night.

"Here, it's this one," Ron said, stopping abruptly in front of a neat, green painted house, with ivy twining cozily over the fence that surrounded it. A stone path led up to a wide wrap-around porch from which a wooden swing hung, lazily creaking in the light, evening breeze.

"How d'you know?" Harry said, squinting at the house, trying to locate the house number.

"I dropped Hermione off here when I met up with her a few days ago." Ron said with a shrug. "Besides, doesn't this look like Hermione's house?"

Harry gave the house another look. He would be hard pressed to say exactly what about the house made this statement true, but Ron was right, the house had a distinctly Hermione-ish air about it.

They walked up the garden path and onto the porch. After a moment's hesitation, Ron tapped softly on the front door. It was immediately opened by Hermione, looking very pretty in a sleeveless red dress.

"Come inside. Quickly." She said anxiously, glancing up and down the street as she pulled them into the house and promptly shut the door behind them.

"Are we in danger?" Harry said in a low, tense voice, glancing around at the brightly lit, cheerfully decorated front hallway. His senses seemed to have sharpened ten-fold. He could feel adrenaline coursing in his veins. He began to take his wand out of his pocket.

"Put that away!" Hermione hissed, grabbing his hand and shoving it back into his pocket. "No, no, nothing like that." Harry and Ron exchanged a relieved look. Ron had also been in the process of pulling out his wand.

"It's the press," she said, sounding exhausted, "I noticed some odd-looking people loitering around our street earlier this afternoon. Kingsley sent some aurors to investigate, to make sure they weren't...well...Death Eaters. Apparently it was a bunch of reporters. They found out where I live and they were waiting for me to leave the house so they could get an interview." She shook her head in disgust.

"Is that all?" Ron said, sounding immensely relieved. "I mean, don't get me wrong, they can be pretty pesky blighters, but...you had me worried for a minute there." His voice had softened slightly. He was gazing very steadily at Hermione. His whole body seemed to have relaxed since he'd seen her.

"It's not just that," Hermione said looking serious, "...It's about the upcoming trials."

"The Death Eater ones?" Harry said sharply. He'd been planning on asking Mr. Weasley for a full explanation that night when he and Ron got back, but maybe he'd get his answers sooner.

"Hermione?" A woman's voice called from somewhere in the back of the house, "Was that the door? Are the guests here?"

"Yes Mum, they just got here!" Hermione called back.

She turned to Harry and Ron,"We'll talk about it later," she said softly.

A door at the far end of the hallway opened and Hermione's mother came out, wiping her hands on a red, checkered apron.

"Hello!" She said, smiling as she tucked a strand of curly brown hair behind her ear,"We're so pleased that the two of you could come tonight. My husband and I didn't get much of a chance to chat with both of you over tea, so I'm glad we get another opportunity. We've been hearing about you from Hermione for ages."

"Thanks for having us," Ron said nervously, "um….your house is lovely."

Hermione's mother laughed good naturedly, "Well, you've only seen the front hallway so far, but I'm glad you like it."

Ron turned slightly red.

"How about I show them around, Mum?" Hermione cut in.

"Good idea," Mrs. Granger nodded, "The food should be ready in about ten minutes. Oh, and knock on your Dad's study, tell him to come down then."

"I will," Hermione said, steering Harry and Ron towards the stairs.

They walked up the polished wooden staircase, pictures of Hermione and her parents throughout the years lining the wall. There was a small Hermione blowing out candles on a birthday cake. A more recent photograph of her and her parents apparently on a camping trip. The picture that made Harry smile the most though was one of Hermione when she was very young, not more than five, sitting on the couch with her father, who appeared to be reading her a very large and old looking book of Shakespeare.

"C'mon, hurry up," Hermione said somewhat anxiously, prodding Harry on the back after he had paused on the step for a moment too long to examine the photograph. "I want a chance to talk to both of you in private before dinner."

She bustled them down the upstairs hallway, guiding them into a room and shutting the door. They were half in darkness for a moment before she flicked on a light switch. Golden light flooded the space, revealing Hermione's bedroom. A bed was opposite them, cheerfully covered with a blue flowered bedspread, a white canopy hanging from the ceiling delicately draped over the head of it. A desk stood in the corner of the room. The top of it littered with stacks of paper covered with Hermione's small, neat handwriting, and a stack of very thick books balanced on the edge; a glance at the title of the book on top proved it to be: A Theoretical Compendium of Advanced Magical Properties Volume IX. A white dresser stood in the other corner with several large silver picture frames on top. Harry was gratified to note a picture of himself, Ron and Hermione prominently displayed near the front. Not at all to his surprise, there was an enormous book case taking up an entire wall; stacks of books shelved two rows deep neatly lined up on all the shelves, covering every square inch of space. Little Women and David Copperfield stood next to A Syllabus of Spellwork and Magical Theories of Historical Development. Harry also noticed several textbooks that appeared to be about muggle history, maths, and science.

He turned back to Hermione and saw her blushingly hiding a small stuffed otter under her pillow.

"What?" she said seeing his glance and looking embarrassed, "I've had Sir Otto since I was four."

"Sir Otto?" Ron laughed, "No, sorry," he said hastily, seeing Hermione's glare, "That's actually really sweet. I used to have the greatest teddy bear, but...well...Fred and George turned it into a spider." He shuddered, "Anyways, I'm sure my bear would have been friends with Sir Otto." He grinned charmingly at Hermione, who tried to suppress a smile and glare at him again, but failed miserably.

"Okay, we don't have much time," Hermione said, settling herself onto her bed, "Here, come, you two can sit her also," she said, patting the bedspread next to her.

Harry sat down, but Ron hung back by the door, blushing slightly.

"C'mon Ron," Hermione said, exasperated, "Don't be ridiculous. This is perfectly all right."

After a moment of apparent wavering, Ron walked over and sat down on Hermione's other side.

"Okay, so let's discuss the trials." Hermione said, looking serious, "I know we haven't talked about them before, but you two have been following the news coverage of them, right?"

Harry and Ron exchanged a bemused look.

Hermione saw this and said exasperatedly, "Don't either of you ever pick up a newspaper?"

"Hey, I read the Daily Prophet just this morning," Ron said sounding offended.

"Oh, so then you have been following the development of the Death Eater trials?" Hermione said, raising one eyebrow.

"Okay...well...no…" Ron said, deflated, "it was actually a newspaper from four days ago."

"Ah, the one with article about Harry on the cover?" Hermione said, eyeing them keenly, "Yes, well, that was actually one of the first mentions of the trials in connection to Harry, so I suppose you've at least started in the right place."

"So tell us," Harry said, slightly impatiently, "What's going on?"

"Fine," Hermione said, clasping her hands together and gazing across the room. "So, obviously as we all know, the ministry captured all the Death Eaters they could after the battle ended, and they've been working hard to re-capture the one's who escaped. But, now that they have all these terrible wizards in custody, they need to start prosecuting and sentencing them."

"The Wizengemont," Harry said slowly, thinking back to something he had once seen in Dumbledore's pensieve.

"Yes, the Wizengemont will try them." Hermione nodded, " but they have a couple of problems on their hands. First of all, there's the trouble with Azkaban. The ministry won't have anything to do with dementors anymore ever since they turned to V...Voldemort's side two years ago. It was a wake-up call that dementors can't really be controlled. And I think it's quite right of them to finally stop using them on prisoners anyhow. It was torture really, if you think about it," she shivered slightly, "But, now they need to totally redesign Azkaban because the dementors were the main security feature there. So they're in a bit of a crisis because the temporary holding cells are full, but they don't really want to sentencing people to Azkaban yet because they have no place to put them."

She took a breath, "Now, the second problem is witnesses. They haven't been able to find eyewitnesses for all the Death Eaters, and without that they really can't move forward in prosecution."

"No eyewitnesses?" Ron spluttered indignantly, "about half the world saw them at the final battle killing people," his voice dropped off at the end of this sentence.

"Yes," Hermione said sadly, gently placing her hand on top of Ron's, "but that wasn't everyone who supported Voldemort. Not all the Death Eaters were even at the battle. I suppose some of his followers didn't really believe he would stay in power forever, so they were careful to make sure everything they did stayed below ground. There's some pretty convincing evidence for most of the wizards suspected, but they can't actually be convicted if it's just conjecture."

She paused, "The Wizengemont's third problem is Death Eaters who have definitely been witnessed committing crimes, but the people who saw them doing it are too scared to come forward and testify against them." She shook her head dejectedly, "It's over now. It's really over. But some people keep saying that it was like this sixteen years ago, and Voldemort came back again. So how do we know this time is any different?"

"Ridiculous," Harry said angrily.

"Well I know that and you know that Harry," Hermione said unhappily, "But it's hard to convince other people who just want to keep themselves and their family's safe to come forward and go on the record."

"So where do I fit into all this?" Harry asked, looking at her closely.

"Right, well, that's the thing Harry," she said hesitatingly, "they...they want you to testify against Draco Malfoy. You were the only one who saw him aid and abet in...the murder of Albus Dumbledore."

"What?" Harry was shocked. "You mean I'm the only one who ever saw Draco Malfoy acting on Voldemort's orders?!"

"Well, for that specific crime, yes. He's been officially wanted by the Wizengemont ever since then, but when the ministry fell apart, there wasn't anything they could do to him. Now they want to prosecute him for helping to kill Dumbledore and for acts of dark magic in service of Voldemort."

She paused "But it doesn't seem like he did much over the past year for Voldemort- it looks like he didn't really fancy being a Death Eater after all. He was certainly seen at the Battle of Hogwarts, but he wasn't witnessed actually fighting. No," she said grimly, "the crime that they really want to charge him with, the act that they really want to send him to Azkaban for, is for plotting and directly aiding in Dumbledore's murder. And I'm sorry to say Harry, that you're the only person who witnessed that."

Ron was staring at her slightly open mouthed, "Blimey," he said, rubbing the back of his head, "So Harry's the one who has to decide if Malfoy gets shipped off to Azkaban?"

"I'm afraid it's something like that," Hermione agreed tiredly, leaning her head on Ron's shoulder.

Harry was stunned. No one had told him anything about this trial, and now, hard is was to believe, the verdict could hinge entirely on his testimony. And it was all centered on Malfoy of all people. It hardly seemed possible to have such conflicting emotions about one person. Malfoy had been a swaggering bully for years, never passing up an opportunity to insult Harry or get him in trouble. And yet. Harry couldn't help remembering the look of fear on Malfoy's face, how he had refused to meet Harry's eyes and identify him when Harry had been captured at Malfoy Manor. How scared he had looked that night on the astronomy tower, and how, ultimately, he had lowered his wand. He had not been able to kill Dumbledore. He had not been able to turn Harry over to Voldemort.

Harry took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes tiredly.

"Hermione, dinner!" Her mother's voice wafted up the stairs, jolting the three of them out of their reverie.

"Right," Hermione said, jumping up and smoothing out her dress, "C'mon you two. You're here to have fun." She smiled somewhat weakly.

"Oh stop it Ron!" She said, a touch exasperatedly, as Ron had begun looking very nervous again, "I promise my parents will be nice to you. They're better than a Hungarian horntail at any rate."

Dinner did, in fact, start out quite nicely. Harry and Ron were seated on one side of the table, with Hermione across from them. Mrs. Granger sat at one end of the table, and Mr. Granger, after being called down repeatedly to come eat, came downstairs carrying a large book and settled himself with somewhat of an air of absentmindedness, at the other end of the table, gently setting his book down on the sideboard and marking his place with a salad fork.

"So, you're Harry and you're Ron," He said, examining them with a genial air, "yes, yes, I remember you from tea the other day. And of course, I've been hearing quite a bit about you in Hermione's letters for years."

The first course was served. It consisted entirely of several different kinds of vegetables.

"We try to eat healthily in this house," Hermione's mother said with a smile, "pass the salad please Wendell."

Hermione's face froze. Her parents exchanged a tense glance, and after a moment, her mother corrected herself, "er...Jack."

Things felt slightly stilted after that, but fortunately the conversation picked up again after a few minutes. Harry was relieved to note that Hermione and her parents were steering clear of any topics related to the past year, and they hadn't even mentioned anything about her and Ron dating. Hermione was doing most of the talking. She somehow managed to find several topics that all five of them could converse about, although nearly all of these topics involved the weather.

Ron too seemed to be handling himself decently. Besides from knocking over the salt cellar and putting his elbow down in a platter of mashed potatoes, he hadn't made any major social gaffes. He did tend to stutter a bit whenever answering a question from one of Hermione's parents, but having Hermione nearby seemed to be giving him the fortitude to prevail.

After a dessert of sugar free ice cream, they retired to the living room for some coffee.

The living room, like the rest of the house, was tidy and organized, but still comfortable. In a very Hermione-ish fashion, built in bookcases lined the back wall, stuffed nearly to bursting with books of every shape and size. More family pictures hung on the walls, several of Hermione as a large-eyed baby with a mass of brown curls, about ten years old, standing with her parents in front of the Eiffel tower, one of her as a teenager, smiling with an old man and woman, perhaps her grandparents. Unlike wizard photographs, the pictures stayed perfectly still, but it wasn't hard to imagine the happiness that had come directly before and after these moments. Harry briefly wondered what it would have been like to grow up in a home such as this. A place where not only were you the center of attention, but where you were truly and unconditionally loved.

"Nice chess set," Ron said, breaking him out of his musings. Ron was standing in the corner of the living room examining a highly polished large marble chess set resting on a side table.

"Thank you," Hermione's father said, coming over to look at it, "My wife got it for me as a birthday present several years ago. I've always been an avid chess enthusiast. Do you play?" He asked Ron with interest.

"Er...well...yeah," Ron said hesitatingly, "I've only ever played the wizard kind before, but I'm guessing it's about the same."

"The wizard kind?" Hermione's father asked curiously.

"All the pieces move on their own," Ron explained, "you just have to tell them what to do. And sometimes they have their own opinions about what move you should make and that sort of thing."

"Interesting," said Mr. Granger, "well, I'm sure the strategy part remains the same. Would you care to play a round?" He said this casually, but behind his glasses his eyes had focused intently on Ron.

Ron glanced nervously over at Hermione, who gave him a look and then nodded slightly.

"I'd love to, sir," He said finally.

Hermione's father set the chess board down on the coffee table and settled himself on the sofa next to his wife. Ron pulled up a chair on the other side. Harry and Hermione sat down on the sofa behind him, and the game began.

"So Ron," Mr. Granger said, still casually, "Tell me a bit more about yourself."

"Er..okay," Ron said, moving his first piece, eyes concentrated on the board, "I have...um…" he paused for a very long moment, "six siblings," he finally said quietly. "I'm the second to youngest."

"My, what a large family. Yes, I remember Hermione told me you have a lot of siblings. And what do your parents do for a living?" Mr. Granger asked, moving his piece.

"Well, my Dad works for the Ministry of Magic, and my Mum stays at home running the house." Ron opened his mouth as though to tell his chess piece where to move, and then closed it abruptly, moving the piece with his hand instead.

"Yes, I remember your mother from two weeks ago when we came for tea" Mrs. Granger said, with a smile, stirring milk into her coffee,"she was lovely. It was very kind of her to have us over."

"Ah, yes," Mr. Granger said vaguely, examining the board, "She was very nice."

"Harry," Hermione said in a low voice, turning away from the game in progress, with a slight frown, "why didn't you hear about the trials any sooner? Hasn't the ministry tried to contact you?"

"I'm sure they have," Harry said, taking a sip of his coffee and slightly scalding his tongue, "but there's wards up at the burrow so only owls from certain people I know can get through."

"Yes, of course," Hermione said, still frowning, "but it seems to be a bit of a problem. I mean, what if someone who's not allowed into the wards really does need to contact you?"

Harry shrugged, "Dunno, I suppose they'd have to find a different way. Or just write all about it in the newspaper and then you can tell me the message the next time I see you."

"Stop it," Hermione said, elbowing him in the side, but she was smiling. "No," she said, serious once more, "It's just that I've been getting some odd letters. No, nothing dangerous!" she said hastily, seeing the expression on his face, "but definitely odd. I was wondering if you or Ron had gotten anything like them."

"What do they say?" Harry asked, concerned, "How do you know they're not dangerous?"

"Well, I know they're not dangerous because…" she paused, glanced at Ron, and then lowered her voice even more, "because they're from Viktor."

"Krum?" Harry asked, extremely surprised.

"Yes, quiet!" she hissed, her eyes sliding over to Ron. Her mother had just left the room to get something from the kitchen, but her father and Ron seemed to have ceased conversing entirely and were now completely focused on the game of chess in progress.

"I didn't talk to Ron about it yet. I was going to when I saw him yesterday, but then I decided it would be better if I spoke to the two of you together. There's no point making him more worried than necessary," She watched Ron studying the chessboard, a look of concern in her eyes, "he has enough on his plate at the moment. Of course, so do you Harry," she added after a moment, returning her gaze to him, somewhat apologetically. "Any decisions about next year yet?"

Harry merely grunted. He was tired of talking about a question that as of yet, he had no answers to.

"Fine, well let me know." Hermione said, her gaze drifting back to Ron.

"How's things with your parents?" Harry asked in a low voice, glancing over at Mr. Graner, who seemed intently focused on the chess game and did not appear to be listening. "I mean, just from an outsider's perspective, things look okay, but are you managing?"

"Well, that's sweet of you to ask Harry," Hermione too shot a quick look at her father, "Honestly, I don't know." She heaved a great sigh. "I mean, they're doing their best. Coming to the Weasley's for tea-although that was a complete disaster- inviting you and Ron here for dinner. They're really trying. And every day their confusion seems to be a bit better, less cloudy, more clear. But I broke their trust. And trust is a hard thing to repair." She sighed again and rubbed her forehead tiredly.

They fell silent. Instead of dwelling on things he could not change, Harry turned his attention to the unfolding game of chess.

Harry was no expert in chess, but it seemed to him that Mr. Granger and Ron were fairly evenly matched. Ron was excellent at chess, and so too, apparently, was Hermione's father. The game, appeared to have turned into some kind of silent and extremely serious battle of wits. The two men had ceased talking, and tension seemed to surround each move that they made.

"My father's rather brilliant at chess," Hermione said quietly to Harry, her eyes still fixed on the game, "but...well...I think that Ron is just a bit better than him." she said, although she sounded rather unsure of herself.

Mrs. Granger returned to the living room, carrying a plate of biscuits. She paused, examining the chessboard before she set the plate down on the coffee table and returned to her seat. "My this looks very serious," she said, turning to Hermione with a smile, "It's not often we can find someone who's really a match for Dad."

"Yes, well…" Hermione said distractedly, watching Ron make his move, her eyebrows furrowed.

They all fell silent, watching the chess match play out. After another ten minutes, the game had progressed to a point of complexity where Harry was no longer even sure who was winning, he only knew that it looked very close indeed.

It was Ron's turn. He paused, examined the board carefully, eyes narrowed in concentration. Hermione leaned forward in her seat, looking extremely nervous.

Mr. Granger was also frowning in concentration, his fingers steepled under his chin as he surveyed the board, but Mrs. Granger was smiling slightly.

Ron slowly stretched out his hand, picked up his knight, and slid it forward. "Checkmate," he said quietly.

The room was very quiet for a moment. Harry wanted to break into applause or let out a cheer, but he wasn't keen on getting on Mr. Granger's bad side, as he felt he had, thus far, let him off very easily.

Fortunately, he was saved the trouble of having to decide what to do next, because a broad smile broke across Mr. Granger's face, and he reached across the chessboard to shake Ron's hand.

"That was brilliant," he said happily, "You're an excellent chess player Ron. I'm extremely impressed."

Ron looked slightly stunned, "Th..thanks sir," he finally managed to get out.

Hermione's father took a sip of his coffee, "Please, call me Jack," He said, still smiling at Ron.

Hermione was beaming, and Mrs. Granger also looked pleased.

"We'll have to have you back again Ron," Hermione's mother said kindly to Ron, "Your chess playing is superb. My husband hasn't had a game like that in years."

"Thank you," Ron said, turning slightly red. He pulled his chair away from the coffee table so that he was sitting next to Hermione and Harry.

"You were amazing Ron," Hermione said, pride evident in her voice. She reached over and took his hand. Ron turned even more red and glanced quickly at her parents and then away. But he smiled over at Hermione.

"I'd like to come back," He said sincerely, meeting her eyes.

She smiled.

The clock in the corner chimed eleven.

"Ah, no!" Ron said, looking at the clock in alarm and jumping to his feet "I told my Mum we'd be back by eleven. Sorry, we have to go now." He said, looking apologetically at Hermione's parents.

"Don't worry," said Mrs. Granger, "I completely understand. Thank you both very much for joining us. I do hope that you'll be back to visit us again sometime this summer."

"Yes, that was quite the game of chess!" Hermione's father said genially to Ron, "I'll look forward to seeing you again."

Harry and Ron walked to the door, Hermione trailing behind them. They stepped outside, stopping on the doorstep, illuminated by the light seeping out from the house.

"The letters?" Harry said softly to Hermione.

Ron looked confused, "What letters?"

"Never mind," Hermione said, anxiously glancing up and down the dark street, "Listen, I really don't want your mother to be worried, you'd better get back right away. But let's meet up tomorrow. I want to talk to both of you."

"Okay," Ron said, looking slightly worried, "Send us an owl and we'll figure out where to meet."

"Thank you both for coming," Hermione said, smiling genuinely at them, "I think my parents really liked you." She leaned over and kissed Ron on the cheek before closing the door.

"What was Hermione talking about?" Ron asked uneasily, when they were down the street, "You two were also whispering while I was playing chess. Is something going on?"

Harry was silent for a moment. He was not keen on being the person to tell Ron that Hermione had been receiving mysterious letters from Viktor Krum.

"She got some kind of strange letter," he said finally, omitting who it had been from, "I dunno," he shrugged, "I don't really understand it, but she said she'd tell us more tomorrow."

This answer seemed to satisfy Ron.

A few minutes later, they were back at the Burrow. Ron bounded up the front steps and opened the door, the warm, cozy light of the kitchen beckoning them inside.

His parents were sitting at the kitchen table talking quietly, but they stopped when Harry and Ron entered.

"How did it go?" Mrs. Weasley asked them anxiously.

"Not bad I think," Ron said grinning, "I played chess with her dad and I won. He seemed to really like it."

"Wonderful!" Mrs. Weasley said beaming. "So everything seems to be going a bit better between Hermione and her parents?" she asked seriously.

"It seemed like it," Harry said with a shrug, "Hermione said things are getting to be more normal."

"Very good." Mr. Weasley smiled, taking a long sip from the mug he was holding.

"I'm going to go tell Ginny that I wasn't a complete disaster after all!" Ron said enthusiastically, bounding up the stairs.

Harry lingered in the kitchen.

"Er...Mr. Weasley," he spoke up after a moment, "I was wondering if I could talk to you. In private."

Mr. Weasley looked surprised. "Certainly Harry," he said, exchanging a glance with Mrs. Weasley. "Let's go into the living room."

They went in, Mr. Weasley shutting the door behind them with a click, and sitting down on the worn, stripey sofa. Harry sat down opposite him, balancing on the edge of a plump, overstuffed armchair.

"So tell me Harry, what's on your mind?" Mr. Weasley asked him seriously.

"Well...I read something in the Daily Prophet this morning, and then Hermione told me more tonight..." Harry began slowly, unsure of exactly what he wanted to say, "It's about the trials. The Death Eater trials."

A concerned look came over Mr. Weasley's face, but he nodded, allowing Harry to continue.

He tried to formulate his thoughts, but words started to tumble out, "I guess I was just wondering..." The words began to get faster, "Why didn't you tell me anything about it? Why didn't you tell me that I'm the only one who can testify against Malfor? You must have heard about it at the ministry. Don't you trust me? Don't you realize I'm not a child anymore?"

Frustration that he had not known was inside of him had begun to seep out, and his words were tinged with anger and hurt.

"I've been taking care of myself for years. I've always been playing this ridiculous game with my life where I've only ever had half the information I need. I'm still taking care of myself, but I'm grown up now. I need to know. If there's something going on that's related to me, I need you to tell me about it!"

He stopped, embarrassed by his unintentional outburst. He had not meant to become angry with Mr. Weasley. He was immediately ashamed for having spoken to him like that. But what he had said was true. He was tired of other people trying to keep him in the dark because they couldn't see that he was the best person to make judgments about his life.

Mr. Weasley was silent for a long while. The flickering candlelight behind him illuminated his face; he looked old and tired.

Guilt surged through Harry, "I'm sor-" he began to say, but Mr. Weasley cut him off.

"No, I'm sorry Harry. I should have talked to you about it sooner. I was planning on sitting down with you tomorrow night." He rubbed his eyes tiredly, "I know you take care of yourself, and the you have a right to know about the things going on that pertain to you. But it's because of that that Molly and I didn't want you to have to hear about this last month when the Wizengemont first started discussing it. You've been through so much. And you've always carried that burden alone. I'm sorry Harry, we were going to tell you but…" his voice became emotional, "we just wanted to take care of you for a little while. To shield you. The way your parents would have."

A lump had settled in Harry's throat. He couldn't speak for a moment.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, "I know that. I know you and Mrs. Weasley have always wanted to do what's best for me. I'm so grateful. And I'm so sorry…" he trailed off, looking down at his lap, unable to entirely verbalize everything he was sorry and grateful for.

"I know Harry," Mr. Weasley said quietly, "I know."

They sat in silence for several more minutes.

Mr. Weasley finally stood up, "I'm going up to bed now. But-I want you to know Harry, Molly and I have always been so happy to have you in our lives. And...we'll try to do better. You're right, you more than anyone deserve to know what's going on."

"Thanks," Harry mumbled quietly.

Mr. Weasley left the room.

Harry remained, alone, in the cozy living room, a candle flickering softly from above the fireplace. Harry walked over to it. Rows of mismatched picture frames of all shapes and sizes were placed haphazardly on top of the mantle. Grinning occupants smiled and waved from each photograph.

A picture at the end of the row caught his eye. He leaned closer for a better look. It was a photograph of Mr. Weasley, Percy, Fred, George, Ron, Ginny, Hermione, and Harry taken at the Quidditch world cup four years ago. They were all smiling broadly and waving at the camera, team flags rippling in the air behind them. Harry stood between Ron and Mr. Weasley, an extremely large grin on his face.

Had he really wondered just a few hours ago at Hermione's house what it felt like to be loved? What it felt like to be part of a family?

He picked up the frame, soaking in every detail of the photograph. It seemed like he was starting to get to the answers. Maybe he'd even known them for a long time.


	12. Mysterious Letters

The next morning found Harry, Ron, and Hermione perched on the Granger's porch swing, creaking back and forth in the light summer breeze. Several letters were spread out on Hermione's lap, and she unfolded the first one carefully.

"So we're finally going to hear about these mysterious letters then?" Ron asked curiously, "do you know who they're from?"

"Well," she said hesitantly, "don't get upset please, but -they're actually from Viktor. Krum that is."

Ron spluttered for a moment, but then seemed to undergo some sort of inner struggle. After a moment he took a deep breath.

"Well, of course you can write to whoever you want to 'Mione." he said calmly, "I trust you."

"Well!" Hermione seemed surprised at this unexpected display of maturity, "Thank you for saying that Ron." She smiled, "But for your information, I haven't actually written to Viktor since fifth year. That's partly why it was such a surprise to get these letters." she frowned, "Yes...definitely odd…" her voice trailed off and her face took on a familiar expression of deep thoughtfulness.

"Can we see them then?" Ron asked impatiently, moving to take the letter from her hand.

"Hold on!" Hermione pulled it free from his grasp and smoothed out the paper.

"Now, they're clearly not normal letters," she looked seriously at Ron and Harry, "I hope he's not in any trouble, because they honestly seem to be in some kind of code."

Hermione had drifted off into contemplative silence again and Harry resisted the urge to grab the letter from her hand. Curiosity was starting to get the better of him.

After another moment she seemed to remember that he and Ron were still sitting silently, waiting for her to begin.

"Fine," she said, taking a deep breath, "I'll read it to you."

"Dearest Hermione," she began.

"Git," Ron muttered darkly to Harry under his breath, his magnanimity remarkably short lived.

Hermione ignored this and continued reading.

"Who is he that builds stronger than either the mason, the shipwright, or the carpenter?"

She stopped reading. Harry and Ron waited a moment for her to continue, but she put the letter down in her lap and picked up the next one.

"That's it?" Ron asked quizzically, "that's the whole letter?"

"Yes." a frown creased Hermione's forehead, "It's very odd. I mean, it's definitely a riddle, but that's the only thing he wrote. He didn't even sign his name. Although look," she passed the letter over the Harry and Ron and pointed to the bottom of the page, "he wrote the word 'who' again in big letters at the bottom.

And there's nothing invisible written on the paper or the envelope."

She cut off Harry with a knowing look, as he had been opening his mouth in order to suggest this exact idea.

"There also weren't any jinxes or curses attached to the paper or envelope. Yes, I thought of checking that too" she said, turning to Ron, who had just opened his mouth apparently to voice this concern, but abruptly shut it again.

"Well what's the second letter?" Ron asked, slightly annoyed, "Did Vicky manage to string together a bit more English in his next attempt?"

"Ron!" Hermione said, exasperated, "Viktor could be in real danger! Maybe he's resorted to writing in this cryptic way because everything he's saying is being monitored!"

"Yeah...well...fine," Ron said somewhat grumpily. But Harry thought he could detect a flicker of worry in his face.

Hermione unfolded the second letter on her lap, and after a moment, began reading it. It was nearly identical to the first, differing only in the riddle presented.

"If it's information you seek, come and see me.

If it's pairs of letters you need, I have consecutively three. Who am I?"

The riddle in the third letter was just as unclear.

"We hurt without moving.

We poison without touching.

We bear the truth and the lies.

We are not to be judged by our size. Who are we?"

Hermione passed over the letters over to him and Ron to examine "On the bottom of both of them, he again re-wrote the the word 'who?'." she said, pointing.

'Who?' was indeed written in dark pencil on the bottom of each letter. This word appeared to have been scrawled with an urgency greater than the rest of the letter, for it was darker and larger, and the pencil even appeared to have gone through the paper at a few points.

"Do you have any idea what the answers to these riddles are then?" Harry asked Hermione, quickly reading the letters through once more.

"Yes." she said, kicking her feet against the porch, so they rocked slightly forwards and backward, "assuming I'm understanding them correctly, and Viktor did in fact intend for these to be solved as standard riddles, the answer to the first one is a gravedigger. It's actually from Shakespeare- What is he that builds stronger than either the mason, the shipwright, or the carpenter? The gravedigger, for his houses will last forever. I'm surprised that Viktor knew something from a muggle writer..." She shrugged, "Anyway, the answer to the second riddle is a bookkeeper- you know, he has lots of information, and there's two o's, two k's, and two e's, all in a row. The third answer, I'm nearly positive, is words. Words hurt without moving, poison without touching, bear truth and lies, and can't be judged by their size. It's the only thing that makes sense."

"Hmm, that was pretty easy then," Ron said, shooting Hermione an impressed look, "You solved them in about two seconds. So what exactly is the problem?"

"The problem is that we still have no idea what they mean!"

"Hermione," Harry cut in, "If you think Viktor's in danger, maybe we should tell Kingsley about it. I mean, he'd definitely want to know if there are still Death Eaters at large."

"I already have," she answered seriously, "when I contacted him yesterday about those reporters, I also told him about this. He said he'd definitely keep an ear out for any news about Viktor, but seeing as he's not actually in England...well, it's out of our ministry's jurisdiction."

"Where exactly is Krum d'you think?" Ron asked curiously, "That Durmstrang lot was ridiculously secretive about their school. For some reason they thought that if we found out where it was we'd all go mad jockeying to get into their daft old castle. Not that I wouldn't mind seeing seeing certain people falling off icebergs." He smiled slightly for a moment as though imagining something beautiful.

"Yes, Karkaroff certainly didn't want us to know… I mean, Viktor's Bulgarian obviously, but, from what he's told me, it sounds like Durmstrang is somewhere in Norway, really far North."

"How'd you reckon that out? I always sort of though it was in Russia."

"Well, it was simple deduction really. He said that they don't have much sunlight in the winter, and there's lakes and mountains around. The highest mountain in Norway is about 2,500 meters and since it's situated North of the Polar Circle, it's the only latitude in that area high enough to restrict sunlight. And there's several fjords in that area too, which would account for how they're able to travel by boat." Hermione said this somewhat absently. She was gazing off into the distance, apparently thinking hard.

Ron and Harry exchanged another look.

"Honestly Hermione," Ron said, "I'm not really sure how it took us a whole year to find the horocruxes with you on our side."

"Well, I suppose if it had just been about figuring out geographic locations it might have been a bit quicker." She smiled wanly at Ron.

"Where are your parents anyhow?" Harry asked her, glancing back towards the house. They had been there for more than an hour and he hadn't yet seen Hermione's mother or father.

"Oh they're at the office."

"They've gone back to work?" Harry was mildly surprised, unable to see how two people who had gone suddenly missing for a year should have been able to slip so casually back into their lives.

"Yes. When the obliviators from the ministry went to get them, they also paid a visit to their office and our neighbors. Everyone just thinks they've been on a sabbatical for the past year." Hermione sighed.

"Do you want some tea?" She asked suddenly.

"I'm starving thanks!" Ron said, sitting up eagerly.

Hermione unlatched the door and they followed her inside. The house was sunny and quite, beams of light illuminating the polished wooden floors and neat rooms.

Harry and Ron trailed after her down the hallway, following as she turned into the kitchen. It was large with wide windows and tall latticed cupboards painted a pale, creamy yellow.

"Make yourself comfortable." Hermione gestured them towards the round breakfast table in the corner of the room and began brewing a pot of tea.

"Got any biscuits?" Ron asked with interest.

"No, sorry, just fruit." Hermione motioned towards a bowl resting in a nook behind where they were sitting.

With mild reluctance, Ron reached over and pulled it down.

"Hermione, what are these?" he was peering back into the nook, apparently looking at something that had been hidden behind the fruit bowl.

"What?" she walked over, gently setting the steaming teapot and and three mugs down on the table with a clink.

In response, Ron pulled out a thick brown book with the words "Family Memories" stamped onto the front in curly gold writing.

"Oh." she blushed. "Yes, that's one of our photo albums."

"Yes, believe it or not I think I'd figured that out." Ron said with a grin, "I was more of wondering why it was lurking behind your fruit bowl."

"Well...I suppose I hid it before you came over yesterday." She looked slightly embarrassed. "Mum has a whole routine worked out of baby stories about me that I wasn't keen on you two hearing. So I decided to remove any temptation."

"Awwww please can't we look at them?" Ron looked pleadingly at her, his hands already poised to flip open the album.

"Fine. I suppose so." She rolled her eyes, "At least you're not going to get the running commentary that goes along with it."

She settled herself down on Ron's other side, and he opened to the first page.

"Blimey, so that's what a muggle hospital looks like then?" Ron asked with interest. The very first photograph was a tired, yet happy looking Mrs. Granger holding a squalling newborn Hermione in her arms as she lay in a hospital bed.

"What do all those...things do?" He pointed to the machines surrounding the bedside.

"Well that's an IV pole, it drips medicine directly into people's veins," Hermione began explaining.

"Weird!" Ron looked impressed. "You never do know what nutty muggles will come up with next!"

"Hey, that reminds me," the picture of the hospital had stirred up something in Harry's memory that he had been meaning to ask Hermione about, "Have you heard anything about Griphook?"

"Griphook?" She repeated, surprised, "No, nothing since he used my shoulder as a launching pad to get out of that vault and leave us to burn to death." She winced slightly and rubbed her shoulder. "Why? Have you heard something?"

"Oh yeah," Ron looked up from the next page of photographs, "We ran into Bill at St. Mungo's and he said he was there to visit him. Something about a Gringotts-Goblin liaison…" he trailed off, frowning at Harry, "dunno, it didn't seem that weird, did it?"

"I just wasn't sure why Griphook would be in St. Mungo's. He seemed pretty healthy last time we saw him." Harry shrugged, "I was just curious I suppose."

"Well, it's a bit odd," Hermione frowned and took a sip of her tea, "but keep in mind that anything could have happened to him since we last saw him. Maybe he ended up captured by Death Eaters again after he ran away…"

"Yeah, I guess so." Harry decided not to press the subject any further, but for some reason, and he supposed it had more to do with a gut feeling than anything else, he was almost sure that Bill had been lying. He took a gulp of his tea, slightly scalding his tongue, the taste of hot mint engulfing his mouth.

"Still," Hermione said brightly, "A Gringotts-Goblin liaison is a wonderful idea! I think that now since the ministry's in such a state of rebirth, it's the perfect time to reforge wizard and non-wizard bonds, but this time to create them with equality in mind. I wrote to Kingsley about S.P.E.W. in fact." Harry and Ron shot each other a knowing look over the rims of their mugs.

"I mean," she continued, "those house elves fighting alongside us in the battle-they were just as brave as any wizard- and yet, they aren't even at liberty to take advantage of the freedom that they were willing to die fighting for! I think that's going to be one of my key debating points if I actually get to present this to the ministry."

"Hermione-" Ron cut her off, apparently trying to head off another lengthy discussion of S.P.E.W., "who are these people?" He pointed to one of the photographs, showing a smiling man and woman holding an infant Hermione. The woman

"Oh," she pulled the album towards her to get a closer look, "that's my aunt Sue and my uncle Nicholas. They own a little bookshop down in Kensington. It's my father's brother, but honestly, he and my aunt make Dad look positively organized and responsible." She glanced down at the photograph and smiled slightly, "They were meant to come over on Christmas day once when I was little, but they never showed up. Mum got all worried that maybe she'd done something to offend them, but Dad just laughed, he said they'd show up eventually. And they did. Three days later. Apparently they'd forgotten our address, misplaced their telephone, and failed to remember that it was Christmas. Dad just thought the whole thing was funny, but Mum was fairly annoyed on account of how she'd spent the whole week before cooking."

Ron looked surprised, "Blimey," he said, eyebrows raised, "I didn't think any of your relatives could be the loony sort. I'd have thought you would've gotten them straightened out with homework planners and personal organizers a long time ago!"

Harry laughed, and the corner of Hermione's mouth turned up slightly in half a smile.

"Well, they are rather intelligent people despite their insanity," she added, flipping to the next page of pictures, "They actually met at Oxford. They were both professors there. Uncle Nicholas taught modern literature and Aunt Sue taught medieval history. Of course, that was before they both decided that they were tired of having to create syllabi and grade papers. Many aspects of teaching actually involve a moderate level of organization which just ended up being too much for the two of them. In their last term teaching Uncle Nicholas turned in a batch of poems about his trip to Rome instead of final grades for his students, and Aunt Sue turned up for a faculty meeting carrying a sword (which she really had brought in for her class on knighthood...but it was still a bit too much for the dean).

Their bookshop is absolutely marvelous though." A dreamy look came into her eyes, "A complete, disorganized mess to be sure. But absolutely marvelous. You never know what you're going to find there."

"Then I suppose you'll have to take us there sometime." Ron grinned, "Do you suppose they'd have a sequel to Twelve Fail Safe Ways to Charm Witches?"

"I'm not sure why you'd need the sequel," Hermione said with a slight blush, "the first twelve ways seem to be working pretty well." Ron smiled at her and she smiled back, their eyes locked.

Harry did not want to see what would happen if the conversation deteriorated any further in this direction, so he quickly grasped around for something to change the subject to.

"Er, Hermione," he said hurriedly, "Do you want to come back to the Burrow with me and Ron? It's my afternoon to watch Teddy." He glanced over at the clock, "I need to be back in about a hour."

"Yes. Sure, I'd love to." She and Ron dropped their gaze from each other and quickly turned back to the photo album.

"Hey, what about Krum?" Ron said after a moment, looking up again. "What are we going to do about his letters?"

Hermione looked up too, and after a moment, sighed, "Right, that's the thing. I don't think that there's much we can do, for the moment at least." She took another sip of her tea meditatively. "I just don't know what to do with the riddles. It's too vague. There's no defined rules of use. I mean, I solved the actual riddles, but what now? Are they to be taken literally? Metaphorically? Do they correspond to actual places? People? Is it some sort of complex cryptography? I just have no idea." she sighed again, "I think our best hope is waiting and seeing if another letter comes which provides some sort of instructions." She glanced inquiringly at him and Ron. "Unless one of you has any idea what to do with them?"

Harry thought about it for a moment. She was right. It could honestly be any of those possibilities or none at all, and trying to match the riddles to one of these options would take extensive time, and knowledge that they simple were not in possession of.

"You don't suppose it's all just some sort of complicated Bulgarian April fool's tradition, is it?" Ron suggested halfheartedly.

Hermione frowned sharply at him.

"I thought not." he said gloomily.

They sat in meditative silence for another minute, until Ron broke the quiet by pulling the photo album close once more.

"Bloody hell! Do you muggles not have diaper vanishing spells?"


End file.
